


Take Me Home

by shesaramblingriot



Series: Chris and Simran's Adventures [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Actors, Age Difference, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Desi Character, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gucci Guilty - Freeform, Height Differences, Humor, Indian Character, Insecurity, Jealousy, Not really though, Older Man/Younger Woman, Self Confidence Issues, Some light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:49:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 157,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4609092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shesaramblingriot/pseuds/shesaramblingriot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simran Grover is an aspiring actress trying to live a simple life with her friends and sisters. Everything is turned upside down when she meets Chris Evans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

The first time I saw Chris Evans, it was at a local Starbucks. I didn’t even realize it was him until it was too late. His sunglasses and black baseball cap disguised him too well for me to recognize him, despite watching The Avengers literally the night before. I mean, the beard may not have helped my eyes either. Or the fact that I was in dire need of going to the eye doctor and getting my prescription updated… 

I was also too busy focusing on the leftover coffee he had made me spill on myself. I was exiting while he was entering, which seemed simple enough, except that his enormous arm hit my not so enormous one and caused the remaining iced coffee in my hand to topple over into my v-neck. I don’t think he even noticed what had actually happened because he muttered a quick apology with little eye contact (in those damn sunglasses) before entering the building. 

The guy didn’t even stop to hear my scream from the sudden cold! I just stood outside for a good five minutes, contemplating going back to give that guy a piece of my mind. I finally decided, why the hell not?

I walked back in and surveyed the area, then spotted the baseball cap covered head sitting in a corner on his phone. I paused for a few moments, waiting to see if I should really do this. Yes, Simran, be a weirdo who approaches this stranger and tells him he made me spill my drink on myself. While I watched the guy, he took off his sunglasses as he spoke in the receiver. I almost screamed as if he was spilling more iced coffee into my shirt. 

The combination of his voice and his eyes made me realize who it was. He wasn’t noticing me staring, so I literally walked back out in shock. I know a lot of people are thinking right now, “How could you ever walk away from a celebrity who just made you drop coffee on yourself?” but let me tell you, if there’s one thing you need to know about me, it’s that I really don’t know how to handle situations. I mean, if I had gone up to him, I probably would’ve just blurted out random words and walked away anyway. So in the end, it was better not to make a fool out of myself and let it be. 

Plus, isn’t it just a great story to tell at parties? “Captain America made me spill coffee on myself!” I can hear myself saying with such enthusiasm while everyone listening to me waits for me to go on telling about how we had a quickie in the Starbucks bathroom or something equally as crazy.

I threw away the empty plastic cup and decided I would just clean myself off when I got to Marc’s restaurant. I was running late anyway! Marc was such a sweetheart to take care of my sisters after school when I had errands to run or meetings with my agent. He was understanding when I called last minute for a favor and honestly, I think he liked hanging out with them more than hanging out with me. 

After arriving at Lombardo’s Italian Cuisine, I saw the girls sitting at the bar counter while Marc was wiping it down. Maya was coloring and talking to Marc when Archie first noticed me. She stuffed a book back into her bag and said, “Where have you been?” with an unmistakable annoyance in her voice. She was thirteen years old and ready to set my ass on fire.

“I’m 22 minutes late, it’s been a weird day,” I huffed, dropping my purse on the chair next to Maya. She was easier to talk to since she was only five. “Hey baby, how was school?”

Maya gave a small smile, showing me the gap where her two front teeth were missing. “It was fun, Miss Kellie gave us Play-Doh!” 

I sent a smile back while giving Marc a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. His eyes fell to my chest and he snorted. “What happened to your shirt, Sim?” 

“Like I said, weird day,” I laughed back. “Would you believe me if I said Chris Evans spilled coffee on me?”

“Who’s Chris Evans?” Maya asked, but I don’t think she really cared. She didn’t know Captain America by his real name.

“No, there would be burn marks!” Archie protested, thinking my imagination was big enough to make a story up. I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out.

“It was my iced coffee, he just bumped into me and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Oh my god, so you met the Chris Evans and didn’t get his number?” Marc said, putting his hands on my shoulders and looking me straight in the eye. 

“I was in shock!” I defended myself, removing his hands. I dramatically looked at Maya as she put away her crayons and said, “Captain America made me spill coffee on myself!”

She looked up with wide eyes and asked, “Like from The Avengers?”

“Yeah, kiddo, like from The Avengers!” 

Archie raised a dark eyebrow in my direction and said, “Okay, but like Marc said, how did you not ask for his number?” Marc was nodding with his arms crossed, tag-teaming me.

“I didn’t even recognize the guy with his lumberjack beard!” I replied as I walked to the bathroom to clean myself up. “We didn’t even really meet! He just said sorry without looking!”

After coming out of the bathroom, the girls were ready to get home. It was almost four and I had to start on dinner soon. I kissed Marc on the cheek as I told Archie to hold Maya’s hand. “You and Char coming to dinner?”

“We wouldn’t miss it!” He winked at me as we walked out the restaurant. I blew a kiss as I shut the door.

I hadn’t seen Charlotte for way too long. Well, three days was way too long for us. We were college friends and even though we had just graduated from UCLA last spring, it felt like I’d known her for longer than five years. She was super busy working with a magazine as assistant editor but she always found time for the mini family we had. 

She and Marc were the best friends I had ever had. Marc came into our lives just three years back when we met him at his family’s restaurant. His parents made us feel like family when I was going through an especially rough time in my life. In the time we had with them, his mother was first to go with his father following shortly after. Charlotte and I were there for him and helped him keep the restaurant open. We all helped each other, but I will never forget how much they helped me with my sisters.

When we got into our two-bedroom apartment, I told the girls to clean up the living area as I made a quick dinner. I set some rice on the stove and prepared the pre-made food: scooped kimchi into a bowl, boiled the veggie and the pork dumplings, and rinsed conventional vegetables before drowning them in miso salad dressing. 

When Char and Marc got in, dinner was ready and I was excited to talk about the new job my agent had gotten me. They all served themselves and out of small bowls while I gave a huge smile to Char. Marc was busy asking Maya how old she was going to be on her birthday a month away from now and Archie was busy texting.

Charlotte reached over and grabbed my hand, giving a squeeze. “Agent given you any new jobs yet?” It’s like she read my mind, I swear. She was always a calming presence to me, making me feel as though everything in the world was not crashing down on me.

“I think she’s trying to get me in a Gucci Guilty ad,” I squealed. Archie scoffed and looked up while everyone else was excited for me. “I mean, gigs are tough since I’m not a conventional model. Being short as hell and of Indian descent doesn’t have modeling and acting jobs lining up, you know.”

“I can’t believe you’re focusing on the show business industry when you could be doing whatever with your Marketing degree,” Archie scowled. I sighed as things got quiet again. She was right, I could just get a job with the degree I had. But this was my dream and I wanted to do it.

“Archana, I need you to realize that just because mom and dad wanted me to do something, doesn’t mean it’s what I should have done,” I refuted while sipping on my water.

“You should apologize to your sister,” Marc said to Archie, pointedly.  
“Sorry,” she mumbled as she stuffed some rice into her mouth. I gave a small reassuring smile and went back to speaking.

“Anyway, I don’t remember who the model with me would be but I’m really hoping I land the job.” Maya isn’t even paying attention, she’s stabbing her vegetables and humming to herself. I laugh for a moment and Marc gives me thumbs up.

“I’m sure you’ll get it,” he told me. “It’s going to be perfect for you!”

After dinner, they stayed over for a couple of hours. I cleaned up with Charlotte in the kitchen as Marc helped with the girls’ homework. 

“So when is that music video with you coming out?” Char asked teasingly while she dries off the dishes. 

“It’s coming out soon! Maybe another two weeks?” I wondered to myself, not quite remembering when my agent told me it would be out. I was a bit distracted and frazzled. “Sorry, I’ll call tomorrow and ask!”

“No, hon, don’t worry,” Char smiled warmly. “We’re just excited for you. Who’d have known your five foot ass would get into a music video as the main girl?”

I scoffed incredulously as I grabbed another pot to wash. “The plan is movies, so this is not anywhere close to where I need to be.”

“You’re well on your way though,” Marc reassured me as he walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabs some cranberry juice. I knew exactly who for. “Maya is asking for some.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know not to give her too much before bed, she’ll never go to bed if she has too much juice.” Marc could never say no to the girls, they had him wrapped around their little fingers.

Once Char and Marc left, the girls were ready for bed and it was almost eleven o’clock. Tomorrow was Wednesday so the girls still had school and I needed to sleep soon as well. I laid on my bed and pulled out my laptop. 

For a laugh, I decided to look up Chris Evans on YouTube and watch some of his recent videos. I mean, I saw the man today and loved his movies. I hadn’t been keeping up with The Avengers: Age of Ultron press and it relaxed me to watch videos. I had a crush on the entire cast anyway. All of them looked like gods and it didn't hurt that Chris was one of my biggest celebrity crushes. Why not, right?

The videos were hilarious and his laugh was so infectious. His beard was becoming more and more familiar to me just from the videos I saw. Everything was good until I saw that stupid interview with him and Jeremy Renner. Most people didn’t care but I was actually angry that they called Black Widow a slut. I loved Marvel and Black Widow was one of the few women who had empowered me at such a young age. I knew they joked but it wasn’t a joke to me. 

I looked at Chris’ laughing face and rolled my eyes. Wasn’t he close friends with Scarlett? Why make a jab at her character? Why wasn’t he realizing that this wasn’t okay to say? I wish I had asked for a number today, granted who knew if he’d give it to me?, and texted him right now, demanding an apology. He would probably block my number anyway. 

I was annoyed by then, in a pretty sour mood. I shut off my laptop and decided to go to bed. Chris Evans was no longer my precious cinnamon roll, but instead my problematic fave it seemed. I was sure he’d apologize for it soon though, right? I could only hope. Whatever I guess, I didn’t know why I was really getting so worked up over this. I mean, it was important. But why did I care so much about him doing it more than Renner? I should care that anyone said something like that.

God, I needed to stop rambling and immersing myself into my thoughts. I shut off the lights and went to bed without another thought.


	2. Chapter Two

 After a few days, that stupid meatball’s comment was still on my mind. I was sure everyone was tired of me talking about it but I didn’t care.

“I don’t know, Char,” I sighed. She was laughing at an episode of Parks and Recreation we were watching. I, of course, wasn’t because I was focusing on something basically pointless. “It’s like, I know actors are human but… He should know better.”

“Look, hon, I know the comment is totally sexist but—” Char started to take a breath where I cut her off.

“But I should get over it because he’s some random guy I don’t know?” 

“Yes, and—“

“And it’s not like he’s not going to have to apologize for the backlash?”

“Well—“

“Well what?” I huffed as she rolled her stormy gray eyes. She paused the TV and looked me in the eye.

“You have got to let me have a word in every once in a while,” Char grumbled as she took some of my Doritos. “He’s going to apologize and yeah, you might not ever know that it’s sincere, but there’s like a 3% chance you’ll ever see him again. If this comment bugs you so much, I suggest you just stop looking him up and forget about him.”

I scoffed. “Just stop looking him up? He’s like my favorite Avenger and I love him as an actor.” I started to pout as I think of a solution. Or there lackof. I whined, “Why can’t he be perfect?” to which Char giggled. 

“If only you could tell him about his problematic behavior,” she teased when she un-paused the show. 

“I wish I could give him a piece of my mind, Char, he’d never say shit like that again,” I pointed my finger at her to make sure she knew I was talking business. 

“Oh, I’m sure, Sim. But you can’t.”

After that, I stayed silent as I ate my Doritos. Whatever, I guess.

On Saturday, Archie, with Maya following her other big sister, begged me to go to Starbucks in the morning. Like way too early in the morning. I didn’t get up until like 10 o'clock in the morning on weekends and she was up at 6 AM, ready to go. How does a child do that, you may ask? I have no idea because I was never a morning person and I probably never would be.

“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled into my pillow as Maya pounds lightly on my back. “Please give me ten more minutes.”

“You said that thirty minutes ago!” Archie protested, as she pulled the blanket away from me. I gave a small whimper in defeat before sitting up.

“You guys owe me big time,” I growled, walking to the bathroom to get ready.

“No we don’t because you promised before that we could go!” Maya giggled and clapped, happy I was finally up. I just groaned in response while brushing my teeth. I put in my contacts, brushed my long, black hair and put on some minimal makeup with winged eyeliner I always loved. I decided to go with black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and some old gray chucks I had for years. 

Finally, after getting ready for thirty minutes, I grabbed the keys and was ready to go. The girl had been ready an hour ago apparently and were impatiently waiting for me to get out the door. Basically pushing me out, we finally left around 7:30. 

I didn’t know why but it was almost never busy at the Starbucks near the apartment. Rarely were there ever more than a couple customers. 

The girls got seated as I went up to order what we always ordered. “Hi, can I get a Trenta Valencia Orange Refresher, a small chocolate smoothie, and a Venti Java Chip frappuccino?” I paused for the barista to get all the drinks down before I ordered the breakfast. “And then two ham and swiss sandwiches and an egg and cheddar breakfast sandwich?”

I waited around for the order until I finally received all the items and we sat in our own little corner. Settling down, I gave the girls their respective items and started to talk. I barely ever got a chance to actually talk to them. I raised an eyebrow and asked, “So how was school this week?”

“It was great!” Maya said, flashing her dimples. I ruffled her dark, curly hair as I took a sip of my Orange Refresher. “Archie hates school!”

“And why does Archie hate school?” I asked, sending a pointed look to the thirteen year old. Archie sighed and rolled her eyes before widening them. She already had big eyes so it was a very comical look.

“Sim, don’t make it obvious or turn around, but I think Chris Evans just walked in.”

“Oh yeah, Chris Evans came back to this place the same time we did. How convenient,” I rolled my eyes, because Archie was just trying to pull my leg. She wanted to get out of the question, even if it meant making up a stupid story. “Don’t try to joke and get out of this.” 

“No, seriously,” Archie whispered, looking over my shoulder. Maya was too busy drinking her smoothie to notice what was even going on. I sighed and turned slowly, stretching my arm to look inconspicuous. I doubt he was there, but it was worth a look. 

One look and I whipped back quickly to look at the girls.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. “It’s fucking Chris Evans. Again.”

“Who’s Chris Evans again?” Maya whispered, trying to mimic me and Archie. Thank God she was using her inside voice.

“Captain America,” Archie whisper-exclaimed, a huge smile growing on her face. Maya giggled and took a look at him. 

He had the same black cap on as last time and the sunglasses were off this time. He was waiting for his order, which we missed because we were too busy talking about him. I didn’t notice Maya slipping away from us to go speak to him until I heard her shoes hit the ground. I froze, trying to keep her in my peripheral vision as Archie tried to stop laughing.

She cleared her throat before tugging on his hand. “Excuse me, Mr. Captain America, I think you should say sorry to my big sister.”

HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

I heard a surprised laugh and glanced over to see that he’d bent down to get to Maya’s level. “Hi sweetie, what’s your name?”

“Maya,” she said, proudly, with a big smile on her face.

“Well, hi, Maya,” he replied. “Who’s your big sister and why do I need to say sorry to her, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“She said you spilled coffee on her,” Maya stated, pointing directly at me while I tried to look like I was speaking to Archie. God damn it, this is why kids are a hassle. I swear if I was paler, you could easily see me blushing. 

“Hmm, well, let’s go ask her,” Chris said with a teasing voice. I didn’t know what to do so I stuffed some more of my sandwich into my mouth as he came round. Perfect, Simran! The man is going to see you with cheese and bacon coming out of your mouth. Really endearing.

“Sim, tell Captain America what happened!” Maya demanded as she held onto Chris’ hand. Oh god. I swallowed my food and stood up. My five foot frame was being towered by his six foot body and little Maya was even smaller than me. His eyes looked me up and down a few times, fucking whore, before he extended his free hand. 

“Hi, I’m Chris,” he smiled at me, waiting for me to shake his hand. “And you are?”

“I’m Simran. That’s pronounced Sim-rin.” I said curtly. I hesitantly extended my own hand to shake his. He raised his eyebrows at my tone but kept the smile. 

“So what’s this about me spilling coffee on you?” He asked, putting the hand that wasn’t being held by Maya in his pocket. Archie let out a laugh and couldn’t stop. He gave her a nod as he kept smiling. “I don’t believe we’ve ever even met.”

I bit my lip as I gathered the words to explain. It wasn’t like it was hard to, he was just really charming without trying to be. That damn smile was making me flustered. It made it hard to think, unfortunately. “On Tuesday, you bumped into me here and made me spill coffee on myself.”

A look of realization was shown on his face as he asked in a concerned tone, “Oh I remember you!”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. He continued, seeming very apologetic, “I spilled coffee on you that day? I had no idea! I am so sorry—”

“No, it’s fine,” I gritted my teeth. This was so awkward. “I’m sure you’re a busy man.”

He shook his head and pouted, “Let me make it up to you. What are you drinking? I can get you a refill.”

“Really, I uh, don’t want anything,” I waved my hand at him. I looked down at the devil next to him. She barely reached his hip. “Maya, are you finished?”

“But you said you’d give him a piece of your mind,” she said, reiterating what I had said before when I was joking with everyone. God, children just make my life so rough. Archie cackled behind me and I wanted to smack her over the head.

Chris raised his eyebrows and tried to hide his smile by ducking his head. “Yeah, let me hear it.”

“No, really, it’s nothing,” I started to get really flustered at this point. God, I really needed to get out of here. Archie wouldn’t stop laughing so I looked back and hissed, “Archie, shut up.” 

“You know, Sim took down that poster of you she had on her wall,” Archie snorted out. Chris let out a little chuckle as he looked down at Maya, who was also laughing. Everyone was laughing but me. Why was I the butt of this joke?

“Oh my god,” I scoffed, mortified at how embarrassing this all was. I ran my fingers through my hair as my cheeks got warm. I started to walk away and said behind me, “Well, I’m going to go wait in the car. You kids can finish eating.”

“Hey, wait,” I heard Chris say behind me as I pushed open the door but I ignored it. I didn’t think he had followed me but he had. I reached my car before I turned around to see him standing behind me with his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want you to think I’m some asshole.”

“Too late,” I mumbled to myself while I opened my car door. Chris held it open as I sat myself down in the driver’s seat. 

“Look, let me make it up to you. I’m really sorry. I thought I had only bumped into you, not ruined your clothes or anything,” he insisted. “Let me just get you something and I can sit with you guys for a bit.”

“The girls would love that but,” I hesitated. I still kind of hated him for his sexist comment. His eyes were begging me, for some reason. What did he even have to prove? It was probably a pity drink but it was free and the girls would think it was super cool. “I-I guess.”

We walked back in together in an awkward silence, before he went up to the barista again. Archie had grabbed the drink Chris had been waiting for before Maya interrupted him and he flashed her smile and a thumbs up. He seemed good with kids, probably because he acted like one himself. 

“Wait, what did you want?” He asked with his brows furrowed as he looked at the bakery on the side. He took his cap off to scratch his forehead and his hair was so unruly underneath. 

“Are you even allowed to eat sweets on that Captain America diet?” I asked as I looked at the desserts myself. Ooh, a cake pop. Or maybe a cinnamon roll? Hmm, cheesecake brownie sounded nice. 

Chris raised his eyebrows and paused before laughing. “I’m not but I can look.” He swiftly put the cap back on. 

“Cheesecake brownie, then,” I nodded to him. “Please.”

“Okay, can I one cheesecake brownie and one 8-grain roll?” He asked, heaving a sigh as he looked longingly at the brownie. He rubbed his chin as he thought. Dude looked like he was really contemplating life and it made me giggle.

“I’ll let you have some,” I mumbled sympathetically. No one should be denied a brownie. He gave me a small smirk.

“You’re gonna have me cheat on my diet? What do I tell my nutritionist? And my trainer?” 

“Oh, they’ll get over it,” I said in an almost teasing way. “You need brownies to get through life.”

Okay, no. I needed to not flirt with Chris Evans. Simran, stop it. Stop it right now. Down girl. 

His chuckle pulled me out of my inner lecture. “Well, it’s not like me to disagree with a pretty lady,” his grin made me want to take off my clothes. I needed to look away. Like now.

I averted my eyes over to the girls who were giggling and whispering. Please don’t embarrass me even more, I pleaded with my eyes. 

After we got the food, I sat next to Archie as Chris sat in the seat across from me with Maya. She asked him to sign her napkin, to which he happily obliged. Chris kept whispering in her ear and giggling like a little kid. Jesus Christ, he was like the same age as Maya. 

“For the record, my name’s Archie. And Sim has lots of posters of lots of guys on her wall, so don’t think you’re the only one,” Archie stated with a smirk. Yeah, that really helps my case, kid. I nudged her shoulder as a way to tell her to shut up. Chris let out a good laugh as Maya snickered. 

“Oh really, like who?” He asked after he calmed down. He sent me a small smirk as I looked down at my brownie. Maybe if I just kept quiet, I’d make it out of this alive. 

“Like Ryan Reynolds, Jake Gyllenhaal, Tom Hardy, Chris Hemsworth,” to which Chris whistled, “Brad Pitt, Leonardo Dicaprio, Henry Cavill—“

“Ooookay, that’s enough,” I said in annoyance. I leaned over to Archie and whispered, “You are so dead.”

“Sim, can Captain America come see me on my birthday?” Maya asked innocently as she pet his beard. I froze before trying to decide how to break it to her. He froze for a second as well before going back to normal and smiling at her.

“Maybe, if I’m not on a mission,” he winked. Maya was satisfied with that answer. After I finished half the brownie and pushed it over to Chris hesitantly. He took a bite and moaned, literally moaned. I mean, it was a joking moan that you can tell isn’t a real one but damn. This man could yodel and I’d want to have sex with him.

After that happened, things got less awkward. We just had basic conversation, as basic as it could get with a guy like him.

“How old are you guys?” He asked, looking at Archie and Maya but side eyeing me.

“I’m thirteen and Maya’s going to turn to turn six.” Archie replied as she drank the last remnants of her frappuccino. “Sim’s 22.”

“How old are you?” Maya asked, poking his cheek. He laughed shortly and said, “I’m 33.”

“Wow, so you’re like a lot of years older than all of us,” Maya said with wonder. Chris’ mouth twisted into a funny grimace. 

“Not a lot,” he disagreed teasingly, “It’s not that bad. I still look young, right?”

Archie whistled while Maya nodded thoughtfully. I just sipped on my drink and avoided eye contact. 

“Well, I think I’m gonna go,” Chris said suddenly. “If I don’t leave now, I’m gonna be late to a meeting with some, well, you guys don’t really care.”

I raised an eyebrow and stood up as he did. “Well, it was a, uh, pleasure to meet you.”

He smiled sincerely while he looked into my eyes. He pursed his lips before saying, “Yeah, it was great meeting you guys.” 

I was going to melt into a goddamn puddle in front of Chris Evans.

He winked at Maya and whispered, with his hand in the form of a telephone, “Call me.” and then he was gone. It was basically a blur and I still hadn’t even truly processed it.

“Oh my god,” Archie exhaled. “I can’t believe we were just on a date with Chris Evans.”

I scoffed, “We were not. He just didn’t want me to make him look bad.” 

“Then why did he tell me to give you his phone number?” Maya asked, waving the napkin with his signature on it around. I snatched it from her hand quickly and sure enough, there was a phone number on it.


	3. Chapter Three

“You know,” Archie started, excitedly looking up from her phone at the dinner table. “He apologized on Twitter for that comment.”

I let out an annoyed groan and ran a hand through my hair. We just met him this morning and they still hadn’t shut up about him. “What did it say?”

“He seemed pretty sincere,” she teased. “He said fans were rightfully angered and stuff. Blah blah blah.”

“Let me see,” I grumbled and quickly grabbed her phone and read through the tweet. He did seem pretty sincere. “I mean, it’s not like all is forgiven. For me anyway. His PR people probably just told him to apologize. He can go around acting like it’s all fine but I’m still gonna have this grudge.”

“I don’t get it, don’t you like love Captain America?” Maya asked while twirling her spaghetti with her fork. I rolled my eyes at the child.

“I admire great actors and wish to be them,” I coolly replied, raising my chin as a way to show that I was above being a fangirl. “I thought Chris Evans was a great actor, and he is, but he’s also not perfect.”

“Why would you expect him to be? He’s human!” Archie argued, and though she was right, I didn’t care. If Chris was sincere, then great. If he’s not, then I don’t want anything to do with him. Archie was so intent on convincing me, however. “Sim, can you at least text him?” 

“No!” I refused, crossing my arms in defiance. 

“You’re acting like a child,” she huffed in response. “Like, I’m more mature than you right now, Sim.”

“Oh shut up,” I said, getting up to put my dish in the sink. “Look, I don’t want to talk to the man. I doubt he actually wants anything to do with me either.”

Archie and Maya smiled at each other but didn’t reply. They didn’t argue for the rest of the night, thank God. I needed a break from these two always ganging up on me. I did love them though, they just knew exactly how to get on my nerves.

The next day was Sunday, a day usually made to relax. However, I was super busy because I had the worst luck. Dropping the kids off at Marc’s this morning had me running late for a meeting with my agent, Lorena. When I met her at the restaurant, she gave me a look. 

“Sorry, I had to drop off the girls,” I rushed to sit down and put my purse on the chair. 

“Simran, you really gotta work on timing,” Lorena said, sipping her tea as she looked at her papers. “Anyway, hold on. I have news.”

I ran a hand through my hair while waiting for her to speak again. I was getting antsy, she had just told me she had news about the Gucci Guilty ad for fuck’s sake. I was basically shaking in my seat. She cleared her throat and looked back up, biting back a smile. I couldn’t hold back my smile either. I tried to push the answer, “Lor?”

“Well, let’s just say I’m the best agent ever,” Lorena giggled. “You got an audition at the very least. It’s up to you now!”

I squealed as quietly as possible and covered my mouth with my hand. My muffled voice could probably be heard saying, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

She rolled her eyes at my childishness but smiled nonetheless. “They thought you looked great, they said they wanted a new edgy look.”

I was basically fanning myself from the excitement as she told me the details. “New, edgy?”

“I don’t know, maybe it was the recent music video or your nose ring that I begged you to take off,” Lor teased. I touched the piece of jewelry and laughed a little breathlessly. “Jesus, you’re excited.”

“It’s gonna be in like magazines and TV,” I squealed, “This could help me take off.”

Lorena put back on her professional face, but her eyes were soft. “Just remember how this industry is, okay? It’s predominately white, tall, gangly women and men.”

“I know, I know,” I waved my hand as I greedily drank the water Lor had ordered for me. “But them even considering me makes a difference, right?” She knew the answer I wanted and she gave it to me, so I sat back satisfied. “When’s the audition?”

“It’s Friday,” Lor replied after taking a look at the paper. “Wear something cute.”

“Don’t I always?” I scoffed jokingly as I pointed at my leggings and flannel. The floppy bun on my head bobbed as I shook my head. “I’m just so dressed up all the time. Especially on a Sunday afternoon.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough with the sarcasm,” Lor rolled her eyes once more. “Make sure you shut that down for the audition.”

“I will, I swear,” I responded quickly, biting my lip as she let out a laugh. “Or at least, I’ll try.”

“I know, hon,” she kept laughing. “Anyway, how was the week?”

We talked for the rest of lunch about not much in particular. I didn’t mention Chris because I thought that was weird. Plus, it wasn’t like I was going to see him again. Two times in a week was enough for a lifetime. 

When I got home around 4 in the afternoon, Marc and Char were already sitting on the couch with the kids watching The Dark Knight Rises. I loved that movie so I sat right down with everyone else after putting my purse on the dinner table. 

The problem with me is I never shut the fuck up when I watch movies. I always make comments, even after seeing the movie fifty times. It drove Marc and Archie up the wall and Char just thought it was hilarious. Maya did the same thing as me, so at least I had a buddy.

“God, isn’t Bane’s voice so interesting? Tom Hardy is the best.”

“Anne Hathaway is so hot. I’d marry her.”

“Christian Bale is a method actor but I think Tom Hardy is too, you know? I mean, he got so buff in three months for this movie.”

Every time I said something, Marc would tell me to shut the fuck up without taking his eyes off the screen. I would just throw my head back and cackle because I didn’t care. Instead I just tried to imitate Bane’s voice, earning a laugh from Maya and Char.

When the movie ended, it was about time for supper. Marc was already in the kitchen making who knows what. I was about to get up to assist him when I realized no one asked me about my meeting with Lorena. 

“Guys! Don’t you remember I met with Lor today?” I hinted as I grabbed my long-forgotten purse off the table. Char’s eyes widened as she realized while the girls just cleaned up the living area, not caring much. 

“What happened?!” Marc shouted from the kitchen. 

“You didn’t even bother to tell us when you walked through the door!” Char laughed in surprise as she started to pour the glasses of water at the table. Maya and Archie finished most of the living room but just sat at the table, waiting for me to finally speak up. “You were too busy oogling at Bane.”

“Well, whatever,” I pouted as I picked up a fallen throw pillow and teasingly added, “Guess you guys don’t care enough.”

“Oh shut up!” Marc’s muffled laugh could be heard through the thin wall separating the kitchen and dining area. “Tell us, come on.”

“I got an audition for Gucci Guilty,” I said with a huge smile on my face. “It’s on Friday!” 

They all clapped and cheered for me, making sure to let me know they were as excited as I was. Marc came out of the kitchen to wrap me in a huge bear hug. He was so thrilled for me. “Wow, this is probably even bigger than the music video!”

“I’m so happy for you!” Char said, joining the hug before gesturing for the girls to get in the hug as well. I let out a huge laugh before hugging everyone back. 

Char, Marc, Archie and Maya had been my support system for so long and they constantly filled me with so much joy. Even if I didn’t get the job, I was content with living like this. They did what they could to ground me, calm me down and keep me sane.


	4. Chapter Four

Friday came quickly, but it may have just been that time flew by because I was so excited.

Lor informed me that the first half was an interview and the second half, once some of the women got weeded out, was the actual audition. I got a little anxious after hearing the news but I was going to live through it. I’m Simran fucking Grover, I can do this. Right?

That day, I got up relatively early to drop the girls off at school and then went to the gym to get an early workout in. With my headphones in, I did less than the normal amount of squats and lunges. Don’t judge, it was a light leg day and I didn’t want to be super tired for the interview. A sore lower body was the worst!

After the workout, my gross and sweaty body told me it was time to go home and shower. Cleaning my body was the highlight of the day so far and it felt so refreshing after a workout. After that, I decided to let my hair air-dry as I made some chai tea in the kitchen. It was nearly noon by this time and I had to be at the interview at four, so I had plenty of time.

I checked social media and some of my text messages while I waited for my tea to cool down.

8:12 AM Marc :-):  
Good luck Sim!!! Just breathe bby

9:31 AM Char >:):  
Sending you positive vibes, sweetie <3

10:46 AM Lorena:  
Hey Simran, good luck today. Remember, tone down the sarcasm and sass. Stay professional. Curl your hair maybe, it looks nice?  
I took a gulp of chai tea as I scrolled on my phone. I got another text notification and almost choked on my hot drink when I saw the messages.

11:20 AM Unknown Number:  
Hey its Chris :) Ur sister sent me ur number and I just wanted to say hi

What.

11:21 AM Unknown Number:  
What size shirt do u wear, btw? I prbly ruined the last 1

The.

11:21 AM Unknown Number:  
Srry, not trying to be a creep, just text me whnver :)

Fuck.

Motherfucker. I let out an inhuman noise that could vaguely sound like me expressing confusion. This guy. This baseball cap-on-backwards, sunglasses-inside, lashes-longer-than-my-legs lumberjack was texting me?

Why was Chris fucking Evans texting me? Why was he, in all his utter beauty, wasting his time trying to contact me? I couldn’t even try to wrap my head around the idea that he wanted to talk to me. I shook my head and put my phone away, but I couldn’t deny the smile creeping up on my face.  
I didn’t know what to say in reply. Would I use a smiley face? Would I text in full sentences? What the fuck should I do? I realized I shouldn’t answer anyway. The guy was an actor and once he found out my choice of profession, I doubted that he’d want to be anywhere near me. He’d think I just wanted my fifteen minutes of fame or something crazy like that.

It was lurking in my mind while I prepared for the interview/audition. I felt strange about how he texted me and tried to make things up to me. I was still a bit cautious. Wasn’t I? I mean, that sexist comment turned me off to him and he seemed like he was just feeling bad about me. Maybe I could focus my frustration towards the double crossing sister of mine! Archie always knew how to screw me over.

I finished the chai tea and chewed on my bottom lip nervously. I allowed myself to sit in anxiety for a few moments before I decided to do it later and cut myself some slack for not reverting back to my worse nervous habits. For now, I had to worry about this audition.

I curled my hair and just did the usual makeup. I focused on and emphasized my main features so I did my eyebrows, put on (maybe too much) mascara and contoured the cheekbones a bit. After applying a tinted lip balm, I tried to find clothes that would work for the interview.

Going through my closet only stressed me out more, I couldn’t decide on something “nice” to wear. I doubted it was actual professional dress, that would be strange for the actual audition part. I ended up choosing some “kind of looks like you tried” clothing. I wore dark wash, high waisted skinny jeans with a flowy nude colored top and some black flats. I kept trying to convince myself my outfit was fine but we all know how that went.

I left my apartment earlier than needed, like way too early. Probably an hour and a half early because I was anxious to get this over with already. I found the place easily and went to the gas station across the street to get a snack. A snack would calm me down right? I guess I could just get a soda, or maybe my favorite chocolates real quick?

I decided on a pack of gum and a small soda to finish before I got back to the building where the interviews were being held. Marc called me while I was finishing up my Coke and I quickly answered.

“Hey, how was picking up the girls?” I asked, trying to unlock my car door as I struggled with carrying my purse, a grocery bag, the soda, and keeping the phone to my ear. I finally managed and sat down, inspecting my nails carelessly while Marc went on and on about the girls.

“And Maya has this little art project surprise for you,” He told me eagerly. I let out an “aw” and laughed before remembering what the other sister did. These kids loved to give me hell.

“Hey, tell Archie I found out what she did, by the way,” I gritted my teeth just thinking about the embarrassment. “She’ll know what I mean.”

His speech was muffled as he spoke to, who I’m assuming was, Archie before coming back on to the phone with a hearty laugh, “SHE DID THAT?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s not that fucking funny,” I hissed as I finished up my soda before awkwardly admitting, “He texted me today.”

“HE TEXTED YOU?” Archie squealed onto the phone. I was assuming Marc put it on speakerphone by now because Maya was giggling in the background with Marc. “Finally! What’d he say?!”

“I’ll tell you guys later,” I mumbled onto the phone. I looked at the time and though I still had forty five minutes before I was scheduled to be there but I lied through my teeth anyway. “I’m about to be running late, so I’ll call you afterwards and let you know how it went.”

“Okay sweetie, break a leg!” Marc said sweetly before he let the girls each say a goodbye as well. 

After disconnecting, I let out a huge huff and ran my fingers through my hair. My hands were shaking and I took out the pack of gum I just bought. Popping a piece into my mouth, I decided that I was ready to go into the waiting room. Forty minutes early wasn’t bad right? It didn’t come across as desperate or anything? I would hope not, but it probably did.

I sat in the empty waiting room for about twenty minutes before two other girls showed up. Then ten minutes before, three others showed up. On the dot, two more showed up. The casting director didn’t call us in until about fifteen minutes after the time he gave us. Okay, so I was way early. Let a girl be nervous, okay? Let me live.

From the waiting room, we were escorted to a smaller waiting room. One door led to the room for the interview. The assistant gave us a quick rundown that the interview would have three interviewers. The three interviewers would be him, the assistant director, and the casting director. I was getting more anxious by the minute and you could tell by how much I bit my lip.

We all sat on the nice couches and it seemed like every girl was glaring at the other. But before long the assistant said the order and told the first girl they were all ready for her.

I was called in after the fifth girl and I almost tripped walking the ten feet to the door. I was nervous and could not hide it. I really needed to relax for this to go well. I walked into the room as I tried to take deep breaths.

“Hi, I’m Simran Grover,” I said as steadily as I could while shaking each interviewer’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you as well Simran?” the casting director said hesitantly, trying to say the name like I had said it. I gave him a smile to let him know he said it right and didn’t sit until the assistant director motioned for me to.

“My name is Mona,” the assistant director said before pointing to her colleagues, “This is Mike,” the assistant, “and Percy” the casting director.

“We see that you don’t have much experience,” Percy said immediately after introductions. Well, fuck. He didn’t do much small talk apparently. He had a straight face with no smile, though the other two had small, reassuring ones. “What other jobs have you had?”

I cleared my throat to make sure my voice didn’t shake. “Well, what I lack in experience I make up for in ambition. I am in the music video for The Weeknd’s new hit song, I also did a poster ad for Sephora’s makeup brand which they put on the ads in their stores…”

I gave quick answers to whatever they asked me and they seemed pleased with what I was saying. Mona asked the iconic question, “What perfumes do you wear? What kind of scents do you like?”

“Well I obviously wear Gucci Guilty when I want to feel great,” I gave a small laugh and they all did the same. “But I like florals that have a musky scent or spicy twists.”

“Ooh, interesting,” Mark wrote that answer down before adding to that, “So spicy scents remind you of your culture?”

I resisted rolling my eyes at the stereotype but sent him a smile. “Not really, I just love the scent.”

He seemed confused but nodded nonetheless. “Measurements?”

I cleared my throat uncomfortably and bit my lip, hard. “They were in the file.”

“But we need to know if they’re updated,” Mike chuckled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. God, I already hated this guy. Mona and Percy said nothing but waited for an answer.

“Well, if you must know, I’m a 32-22-32,” I replied, my lip was probably bleeding by now. I was so uncomfortable with my body when it was brought up in interviews. I was already drowning in self-doubt, but it just piled on and on. “But keep in mind that I am five foot, exactly.”

Mike whistled and I ran my fingers through my hair, trying not to hear some comment he would probably make. “Tiny waist, girl. You got an hour glass figure! Like Betty Boop!” I obviously heard it anyway considering I was sitting right in front of him. I looked nothing like Betty Boop, he could shut the fuck up.

Mona nodded along and wrote it down, “There’s nothing wrong with the measurements or the height.” I guess she was trying to assure me but it didn’t really help.

“What are your limits when it comes to the ad?” Percy inquired, looking right into my eyes as if to intimidate me. Well, shit, if my sore lip wasn’t evident of inferiority. “If you’ve seen the previous ads, you know we have quite steamy scenes.”

“I have no issues with any of it,” I said directly. “I’ve seen the ads and I know what I’m getting into. Anything you throw at me, I’l take it.” It’s not like I really had any shame for matters like that. I didn’t care if people saw me making out with some random guy. It’s for a job and at the end of the day, I’d have more exposure and more money.

They all had, what seemed like, satisfied expressions on their faces at that answer. Mona stood up first, followed by Mike and Percy, to indicate the interview was over. She shook my hand and said, “That will be all for now. We’re going to talk it over and interview the other girls. Please stay in the smaller waiting area until Mark comes out again.”

After walking out of the interview, I felt more at ease. I knew I nailed that part of the interview and that was supposed to be the hard part. For me anyway. So I sat back on the couch and relaxed a bit. My lip biting hadn’t stopped but it had slowed down, thankfully. The hard part was over.

It seemed like eternity until Mike came out again. He did have an apologetic look on his face as he said, “Sorry to say this but only Marnie, Jessica, Simran, and Lucy made the cut, girls. The rest of you can go out through that door.” He pointed to the one leading out to the bigger waiting room. The girls shuffled out, sending us each dirty looks.

I let out a small sigh of relief and ran a shaky hand through my hair.

See guys? The hard part was over. Right?


	5. Chapter Five

You know, by now you should realize that everything I say is wrong. The hard part is over? Man, was I mistaken. Never going to see Chris Evans again? Jesus, I hit way off the mark. I literally cannot wrap my head around how the universe loves to pick on me and only me. 

Mike gave us a fifteen minute break to drink water and get prepped for the audition. He said, “Don’t worry, girls. It’s improv with the actor and then you leave. We’ll call you after a few days to let you know what we decide.”

I felt okay, like I wasn’t too nervous. I loved improv in high school drama class. Granted, that was in high school drama class. But I still felt ready nonetheless. I doubted anything would really throw a wrench in my plans to dominate this audition.

Remember what I said about “everything I say is wrong”?

I walked into the audition room with the group, it was a pretty big room. There was a couch and chairs set up for, I’m assuming, the directors. I spotted two camera guys talking to Mona. The set was just a white background with a lot of lights and was, frankly, boring and plain. I saw Percy talking to some guy. The man’s back was to me and I had a great view of his ass. As Mike gave us a little pep talk, I tried to sneak a glance at his face with no luck. Whoever that was, he looked great in those jeans. 

“Is that the actor?” a lanky girl with light brown hair asked, pointing to Wonder Ass. I furrowed my brows and pouted to myself, because I should’ve asked that question. Fucking Simran, you gotta stay on top of things. 

Mike laughed, “Yeah, you guys spotted him.” I hated Mike. He was a sleazy weirdo who wanted to know my bra size but not how to pronounce my name correctly. Fuck Mike.

“Who is he?” another girl with shoulder length blonde hair and so many tattoos I couldn’t count them all asked. Honestly, she looked cool as hell. I mentally kicked myself again for not asking these questions. But as long as they were getting answered right? 

“Well, don’t you guys know who does the ads for Gucci Guilty?” Mike asked, looking at all four of us with confusion. We all mirrored his face. “We didn’t mention it in the info given?”

“What?” I asked, finally speaking up my frustration. “I’m sure we’re all confused.”

“This is an audition to replace Evan Rachel Wood, you’ll be working along side Chris Evans,” Mike clarified, raising an eyebrow as we all swallowed this information. I’m sure everyone but me looked fine. I couldn’t see my face for obvious reasons, but I bet $100 I looked green and sickly. 

I bit my lip as a way to stop the nerves but it didn’t really help, it never really did. What the fuck?

I tried to wrack my mind and see how I could’ve missed the signs. I knew Chris Evans had done the ads before but it had been my understanding that us replacing Evan Rachel Wood meant he would be replaced as well. It’s not like he needed to do these ads since he had the Captain America gig anyway. Why did the universe want to make me explode? 

I glanced over at Percy and Chris again. I should’ve known that ass anywhere, I’m disappointed in myself.

Percy was bringing Chris over by this time but I didn’t think he noticed me yet. Hell, I shouldn’t have even been thinking about this. I doubt he would remember what I looked like? He sees dozens of people a day, so it’s not like I’m memorable. I mean, the man texted me this morning and I didn’t reply but maybe it was an assistant or something? Who fucking knows. My imagination just needed to stop running wild. 

“Girls, this is Chris Evans,” Percy said, finally making it to us. 

We all said hi, trying to shake his hand one by one. The tattooed girl was first to shake his hand, then the girl who hadn’t spoken at all yet, the lanky girl and then me. I avoided eye contact as I shook his warm, large hand but I could feel his eyes burning into me. 

“Well, you know him as Captain America, I’m sure, but…” Percy was talking but I was drowning him out. Chris was looking intently at Percy so I let my eyes wander. 

Chris looked so damn perfect. His beard was perfectly trimmed and his hair was slicked back, no strand out of place. He looked so tall compared to everyone, except for Percy and the lanky girl who was probably 5’10” or something like that. The guy was only six foot, but he looked like he was eight feet tall compared to me. 

His torso was a perfect triangle, like how the fuck did he do that? The shirt he was wearing was a snug fit but it was probably to show off his fucking arms. His arms literally looked like the size of my head, I wanted to melt into a puddle just looking at his muscles. You could see a peek of his goddamn quote tattoo that I loved oh so much. His jeans were dark wash and perfect for his body, obviously, considering his ass looked great in them. I tore my eyes away finally, deciding to just glance at his dark colored shoes before lifting my eyes back up to his face. I met his eyes immediately. 

He noticed me. He noticed me checking him out. Shit, shit, shit. His intense eyes looked directly into my wide ones as he sent me a small smirk. Shit, he knew. God, I needed to learn how to be subtle. I had the worst luck with this man, not that I didn’t have the worst luck with any romance in the past because let me tell you, I fucking did. But it wasn’t funny. My eyes flickered over to Percy, avoiding the burning stare Chris was giving me.

“And so we will be deciding on the prompt once you’re up there. It’ll most likely be of an argumentative nature to see some passion,” Percy continued on so I finally paid attention. Chris put his attention back on to Percy as well, thank God. “Who would like to go first?”

The quiet girl who hadn’t spoken yet, in my presence at least, raised her hand. Her box braids were perfectly in place and her voice was soft. “I’ll go first if that’ s okay.”

“Of course you may, Marnie,” Mona said, looking at a clipboard she held. “Let’s get started then, shall we?”

Chris smiled at her warmly, sending her a wink, and my face burned up. What the fuck? My lip went back to being abused by my teeth as I nervously sat down with the other two girls to watch the audition. 

Mona had settled in with Mike and Percy, ready to judge the fuck out of us. The two camera men had two different angles on Chris and the quiet girl, I guess so they could play back the videos and see how well we had interacted with him. Percy cleared his throat to cut the chatter from everyone.

“How about this?” Percy starts, his focus on Chris and Marnie. “You guys just lost a baby, it was a miscarriage, and you’re having your first fight since then.”

“Aw man!” Chris exclaimed, “This one’s sad.”

Marnie blushed slightly as Chris shrugged his shoulders at her and made a funny face. He whispered in her ear and she giggled nervously. He seemed like he was good at making people stay at ease. Unless it was me. He made me feel like I needed to shoot myself into the sun to get away from his beauty.

The scene was not bad at all. Her fake crying was believable and Chris’ acting was wonderful, as always. It was really good actually! Marnie was a very good actress and her intensity with Chris was strong. I shifted in my seat, getting even more nervous as I thought of how well received she was so far. Marnie had been the brave soul to go first and she was already talented, so it worked in her favor. 

We all clapped when they finished and Chris made Marnie bow with him, sending her a wink as she made her way to shake Percy, Mona and Mike’s hands. She grabbed her purse and I sent her a smile. I mouthed “great job” and she gave me a smile and nod back. Marie left and we got a few minutes to talk some more with each other. The lanky girl next to me’s name was Lucy and she was really sweet.

“Very good,” Mona said, taking a sip of her glass of water. She looked at the clipboard and looked back up to meet eyes with the tattooed blonde, “Next is Jessica.”

“Cool,” Jessica replied as she walked up to the set. She seemed calm but stiffened for a moment as Chris put his arm around her. She relaxed once again, somehow. If that had been me, I would not be so calm. He whispered in her ear and glanced over at the rest of us girls, a huge grin on his face. Jessica smiled back at him but her cheeks were red as fuck. What the fuck? Why was this guy so touchy? God, I wanted to die. But not before he touched me as well.

“Prompt?” Chris asked, raising his eyebrows before separating himself from Jessica’s side. 

Well thank fucking God he knows that he doesn’t have to be within three inches of her the whole time. Okay, so I was getting annoyed. Obviously being jealous wasn’t going to help me getting over my nervousness and the fact that I told myself I would never have to see him again. I’m not going to get this job with him here. Seeing him the third time in two weeks was crazy and not even realistic. 

“Jessica you’re pregnant,” Mike replied, “And Chris, you don’t want kids.”

“Whoo, I really have to act for this one because I love kids,” Chris whistled, nudging Jessica. She giggled and looked like a tattooed goddess. “Anyway, whenever you’re ready.”

Jessica was okay but, in my opinion, she tried too hard. Or at least, it seemed like she tried too hard. Plus, her and Chris were awkward together. You could tell he was trying so hard to make it easy for her, but she didn’t seem to get it. We all clapped for her but I don’t know. It didn’t seem like she’d be getting the part. After her scene ended, she thanked Percy and left. I visibly stiffened in my seat as Chris glanced over at me. 

Mike cleared his throat and shot me a wink, “Simran, you’re up.” I really hated that guy. He couldn’t even say my name right. It wasn’t “Sim-ran.” It was “Sim-rin.” Lucy squeezed my shoulder reassuringly as I got up from the couch. 

“It’s pronounced Sim-rin,” Chris replied with a small laugh. He met my eyes and asked, “Right?”

My mind stopped working for a few moments. Chris grinned and I averted my eyes immediately, nodding to answer his question. My legs felt wobbly but I think I walked to where he was without much problem. I hoped anyway. I tried to avoid eye contact with him until we were required to meet eyes. This was even worse than Maya bringing him over and having Chris fucking Evans apologize to me in the local fucking Starbucks. 

Chris’ huge smile had not been wiped from his goddamn mouth yet and I wanted to melt into the floor after seeing it. His teeth were so perfect and his lips were a deep pink. Plus, when he smiled, his cheekbones and jawline made me think I could slit my throat with them. His beard looked so soft and warm, I wanted it buried in my neck.. Or between my thighs. Whichever he chose, really, I wouldn’t complain either way. Hell, I’d pay to just touch it. Maya did and he didn’t give a fuck! But alas, Maya was only five and I was a goddamn grown woman. 

I wanted to punch myself in the face. How could the casting director even think we would look cute enough to work together? I didn’t even think we could look good together. He was way too fucking gorgeous. I was starting to breath really heavy and bite my lip even harder than before. If I didn’t bleed before the scene ended, I’d consider it an accomplishment. 

Get it fucking together, Simran. He is just a guy. Get over yourself and get this damn job. Prove mom wrong. Prove dad wrong. Prove everyone wrong and make yourself a fucking name in this world. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Don’t let Chris Evans fucking ruin it for you. Goddamn it, woman. Just relax!

Chris asked for the prompt as my inner monologue went on. Me yelling at myself surprisingly calmed me down. I relaxed my shoulders and resorted to chewing the inside of my cheek instead of killing my lips for a change. 

“Simran, you think Chris is cheating on you.” Percy said, pointing to me before pointing to Chris, “And Chris, you are so you’re going to admit it.”

Percy, Mona and Mike were gathering papers before they were going to give us a cue so there a small pause. Chris leaned down towards me for a moment, his warm breath tickling my ear as he whispered, “Did you get my texts?” 

He straightened up immediately, putting his hand on my waist and leading me to the center of the set. I couldn’t think straight when I smelled him. He was so close to me and his scent was so strong. He smelled like cologne and soap and coffee. He smelled just like last time I saw him and it took me back to the horribly awkward memory. I wanted to lean into him but instead, my eyes just widened as my mind searched for a lie.

“I-I haven’t looked at my phone today,” I whispered back, looking away from him.

I was close enough to him where I could feel his body shaking with quiet laughter. He leaned back down and this time his beard hit the shell of my earlobe as he whispered, “You fucking liar.”

There was no anger or bitterness in his tone, just amusement. Just when I had gotten myself to relax, he was getting me worked up again. My face was burning up both from his words and from the proximity we were in.

Mike cleared his throat and asked, “You’re ready right guys?”

Chris moved away from me a bit and gave a thumbs up, before turning back to face me. He gestured for me to go first and winked. Fucking asshole. I took a moment and relaxed again. I pushed thoughts of him, of anything distracting, out of my mind.

I put on a stone cold face and turned into a jealous girlfriend. My arms were crossed and I venomously asked, “Who’s Hannah and why did she want to meet yesterday?”

Chris immediately went on guard, his body language changing immediately as well. He ran a hand through his hair before resting his hands on his waist. “Hannah? I don’t know any Hannah. What are you talking about?”

“Yes, you do,” I scoffed at him angrily, which surprised him. “You work with a Hannah, dumbass. I met her at your office Christmas party, remember? She was drunk and couldn’t keep her hands to herself? Is that the one texting you in the middle of the night?”

“Hannah? Oh hon, don’t worry about it,” He said, closing the space between us. He put his hands on either side of my face and I tried to stay focused. Did he even realize what he was doing to me? Did he love to torture me? “Now, how about some dinner?”

“Oh fuck you!” I shouted in his face, pulling his hands away from me and backing away from him. “I know you fucked her. We haven’t had sex in weeks and you’ve been in a good mood regardless of that. Usually you’re begging for it by now. You have to be getting it from somewhere else.”

I was becoming less and less nervous as I got into the role. Chris’ character was an asshole and was cheating on me, I needed to be angry, I needed to be memorable to Percy. 

Chris crossed his arms and sighed. “Honey, listen.”

“No, don’t ‘Honey’ me,” I barked back, pointing my finger at him. I kept my distance in case he wanted to approach me for something again like he did with holding my face. “How long has it been going on?”

“I haven’t done a thing,” Chris said, still trying to reassure me. He was letting it drag on for a while, he had to admit it soon though. He came close enough to me to push my hair behind my ear and raised his eyebrows, looking at me suggestively. “But speaking of sex…”

“No!” I slapped him and he touched the side of his face. OH FUCK. 

Before I started to panic, my last thought was that his beard was as soft as I had imagined.

Doing things in the heat of the moment was going to kill me. I totally screwed up the audition. I slapped their actor right in the face. I hit Captain America in the face. I could see myself on newspaper covers tomorrow with titles saying “DUMB MODEL WANNABE HITS BELOVED AMERICAN SWEETHEART” or something along those lines. I was so fucked. I fucked up so bad.

I heard Lucy and Mike gasp but I focused on Chris. He seemed like he was proud, he had a small smile on his face before shifting his face back into character. He furrowed his brows and grit his teeth before stalking towards me. Chris seemed like he wanted to keep going so I shoved it all in the back of my mind. I dropped my shoulders and made myself look smaller and more broken down as I asked him, “Why don’t you want me anymore?”

His jaw clenched angrily as he gripped my upper arms. It was lightly of course, he didn’t want to hurt me for the scene. My hands rested on his hard chest, his muscles rippling underneath my finger tips every time he moved. 

Chris’ eyes searched mine as he growled, “Why don’t I want you anymore? Why don’t you want me? You pushed me away. You made me go to other women.”

I gripped his shirt in my hands as I gasped lightly. If we weren’t in the middle of a scene right now, I’d want to jump his bones. I’d do him right here on the set. Even with the cameras and audience, I’d fuck him on the floor in front of everyone. Fucking focus, Simran. He’s not going to give you the time of day, you fucking slapped him.

“So there are other women?” I slumped into him, defeated. I was trying to make the water works come in but they didn’t want to just yet. I made my voice tremble as I said, “Hannah is just one of many huh? And I’m nothing to you now.”

“No, I was nothing. You made me feel like nothing. So I went to women who made me feel something, anything,” he shook me as he spoke. Our faces were within a few inches of each other and his fresh breath was blowing in my face. My eyes fluttered closed as I tried to make myself cry again. Not that hard considering I knew I was not getting the job anymore. 

“Why did you do this to us?” I whimpered. The tears started to fall finally and I tried to make sure the audience could see them. His eyes widened with concern but then went back to normal as he bared his teeth.

“You did this to us.”

We stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments and I could almost stay like that forever. His eyes calmed me down, they reminded me of the ocean. I was sure I could stare at them for hours without being bored. 

Pulling me out of my trance, Percy was clapping first, followed by everyone else. Chris and I pulled away from each other’s arms and I awkwardly adjusted his shirt a bit, which in hindsight was probably not a good idea. I whispered a sorry to him quickly and he sent a small smile to me. Hopefully he knew I was apologizing for damaging that beautiful face of his. He looked like he was about to say something, but I needed to get out of there. Immediately.

Knowing I wasn’t getting the gig was painful and I had already been so anxious. My lip biting was back in full force as I turned around, away from him and to the couch where my purse sat. I whispered a good luck to Lucy with a sad smile before shaking Percy, Mona, and Mike’s hands. I glanced at Chris one last time and mouthed an apology yet again. 

His eyes met mine and I tore my eyes away quickly and went out the exit without looking back again. 

I could feel the tears, real tears now, well up. I couldn’t breathe. I just couldn’t believe that I fucked up this audition this badly. I ruined it, I ruined this perfect chance.


	6. Chapter Six

I hadn’t left the parking lot yet.

I just didn’t know what to do. I never really handled my mini freak outs well. I slumped into the driver’s seat, turned on my “Calm” playlist and let out a few tears, I’m okay with admitting it. My bottom lip was bleeding but I was too busy trying to calm down to even care. I didn’t need another episode or mental breakdown.

Marc had texted me but I elected to ignore it for now, putting my phone in the cup holder. I needed to clear my head before driving. Driving during a mental breakdown really isn’t a good idea. Last time I did that, I got into a fucking car crash. A minor one, yeah, but still a car crash. My mind was racing and I was trying to get it to slow down.

At some point, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes to calm down. Big mistake.

I woke up to a knock on my passenger side window. Disoriented and with blurry vision, my eyes widened as I saw who so rudely awakened me. I sat up straight immediately and mentally groaned. The universe loved to fuck me up. It put me in the WORST situations possible.

Guess who’s standing next to my car? You guessed it, it’s the guy I just slapped.

Chris had his hands in his pocket and was still standing there. He looked around the parking lot before trying to open my door. It was locked and he looked back at me again, hesitantly.

Awkward. Really, really awkward.

I pressed the button on my left side to unlock the passenger door and he slid in to my small car. 

I was welcomed with the scent of his cologne and wanted to laugh at how comical it looked. His big frame in my small and modest Camry was a sight to see.

It was silent for a few seconds because I didn’t know why the fuck he was in my car. Not that I was complaining per se, just confused. Nervous and a bit starstruck, but mostly confused. I mean, Chris Evans was sitting in my car after I slapped him in an audition.

By now, I shouldn’t have been so stunned after seeing him. I’d seen him, what, like three times now? We practically were acquaintances now, right? Probably not, we knew next to nothing about each other. I doubted that that would change.

He cleared his throat and turned to look at me, with a shy smile on his face. “Hey.”

He is so fucking cute. How could someone so hot also be so adorable? I couldn’t decide if I wanted to fuck him or cuddle him. He was a dangerous combination of cute and sexy. I could see me straddling him, looking at his beautiful face from up above and we’re ready to do bad, dirty things. But again, I could see us cuddling up on the couch, his face nuzzled into my neck and his beard tickling my neck as he hugged me. Thinking these thoughts were going to make me go down a dangerous road though and I needed to get off that path right away. 

I sighed before replying. Turning my body a bit to actually face him, I decided I may as well apologize formally. “Listen, I’m really sor-“

“Oh my god, are you okay?” His face twisted into concern as he looked at my mouth. “Your lips, the bottom one is bleeding.”

“Oh yeah,” I touched my bottom lip and shrugged as I looked at the blood on my finger tips. “It happens when I get nervous and bite my lips too much.” He frowned as I licked my lips. It was quiet again as I grabbed a tissue from the tissue box in my backseat. After dabbing it on my lip a couple of times, I looked back at Chris. He was staring back intently, well, his eyes were on my lips but he was still staring.  

He didn’t say anything so I continued. “As I was saying, I’m really so, so, so sorry about slapping you. It was a heat of the moment thing you know? I was just being stupid and trying to get into character and I thought about how I’d react if my lover was cheating on me and I didn’t even really have control over my actions. I’m so sorry, I really hope it didn’t hurt, I mean I didn’t really notice me doing it until I heard the smack! That probably meant it wasn’t too bad right? Jesus Christ, but I know I still fucked things up and—“

“Holy shit, slow down,” Chris said, holding a hand up and I immediately shut up again. I thought he was going to yell at me but instead he sniggered. I scowled until he spoke again, looking at me with sincere eyes. “You did great! That was the best audition we’ve had. I haven’t been slapped in a while!”

I threw my head in my hands, leaned back against my seat and let out a whimper. I heard him shifting, probably so he could try to face me as best as he could, but I didn’t look up. “No, it really wasn’t. Please don’t try to make me feel better.”

“Hey,” Chris said softly. “You really did do well. Percy’s going to remember that slap.”

“Not in a good way,” I groaned into my hands but moved my fingers so I could look at him with one of my eyes. “I slapped you. I can’t believe I slapped you!”

“You’ll be fine,” Chris insisted, removing my hands from my face. His hands were so warm as he held my wrists lightly. He came closer to me, trying to catch my eyes with his. In the small space of my car, it was all awkward positioning just to face each other. He paused for a moment before offering, “Look, I can talk to them if you want.”

I pulled back immediately before I got lost in his eyes and did something stupid. You’d think after seeing countless pictures and movies with him in them, he would seem less attractive but no. 

He was even more attractive when you could also hear him and smell him and touch him. I could picture the previous things I mentioned but even stronger. Stop it, Simran.

“No, do not talk to them,” I said, pulling my hands away from his and into my lap. Looking out my driver’s seat window, there was pause and I glanced back at him. “Please.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not going to get the job,” I stated in a hard tone. I needed him to know I was serious and not trying to get sympathy. “But I certainly don’t want them thinking I got you to try to get me the job.”

Chris frowned. “That’s not what Percy would think. Besides, I have a say in who gets hired regardless of whether I talk to them about you or not.”

“I understand that, but I do not need your pity, Chris,” I replied, getting frustrated with this conversation. “Look, I know you feel bad for me or something because you spilled coffee on me like two weeks ago but please do not try to get me a pity job or something. I don’t need your sympathy, I can bounce back.”

“I don’t feel bad for you, Simran,” he said mocking my tone. I rolled my eyes but his smile made the corners of my own mouth twitch upwards. “I think you’re fit for the ad and I won’t try to get you the job but when they ask me who I liked the best, I’m going to be honest and say you. Because it was you. We had the best chemistry. Don’t you agree?”

“I-I, I don’t know,” I sighed quietly, avoiding his eyes. There was silence for moments and I finally realized my music was still playing in the background. I went to lower the volume but Chris’ hand came up to stop me.

“This song sounds familiar, I feel like I’ve listened to it,” Chris wondered aloud.

I raised my eyebrows at the change of subject and nodded. “It’s a pretty famous song, it’s called Intro by the xx. I like it because it’s constant and calms me down.”

“Oh wow, I loved the Notorious xx remix of this song!” Chris replied, excitedly. His eyes were twinkling and he had a huge grin on his face. “Man, this brings me back to like 2011. Isn’t it crazy how music takes you back to another time?”

“Yeah, I was listening to Fergie the other day and felt like I was thirteen years old again!”

“You were thirteen years old when Fergie got famous?” Chris sounded surprised. “Jesus, you’re pretty young.”

“I was thirteen when I heard Big Girls Don’t Cry for the first time,” I corrected myself. I giggled as I recalled how I had first heard it. “This boy had just broke my heart and I heard it on the radio on the way home from school. I started crying in the car and my mom was like ‘What the fuck?’”

Chris laughed with me and it felt natural for a minute. Our laughter died down and we both looked away from each other. There was another pause for a moment, there had been a lot of them since he sat in my car unexpectedly. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck before his eyes flickered over to me again.

“Hey, why did you sister say you took my poster down from your wall?”

“That was like two weeks ago, how do you remember that?”

Chris shrugged and waited for my answer.

“Well, ‘cause you made that asshole, sexist comment,” I replied quickly before realizing what I said. My hands went to my mouth and I wanted to bang my head against the steering wheel. 

The times I didn’t have a filter were so bad for me, especially now. I really wasn’t in the mood for him to get defensive and then try to ruin my career or something drastic like that.

“The one about Black Widow?” Chris hesitated.

He didn’t seem angry or defensive but I still worried. I mean, I knew it was a sexist comment and it wasn’t right but I was in no condition to actually have to argue. I moved my hands away from my mouth and back my lap, nodding to reply to his question.

“I know, it was fucked up,” He started to explain himself but I scoffed. “Trust me, I really do. My mom called the next day and chewed my ass out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s great she knew it was sexist,” I muttered under my breath.

“She taught me better than that,” Chris admitted, sheepishly. “I really am sorry. If you want, I can really try to explain myself?”

“I don’t really care,” I said, tightlipped. I was such a liar, goddamn it. This whole time I had complained about it to Charlotte but on the off fucking chance Chris Evans wanted to actually apologize for the comment, I’m pushing him away. I’m such a fucking piece of work.

“It’s just… I take medication for my anxiety on these long press tours especially,” Chris ignored my comment, his shoulders tense and eyes desperate to look at mine. He really wanted to prove himself for some reason. I looked into his eyes and nodded, urging him to go on. “And obviously I’m kind of an idiot sometimes and mix some alcohol with my coffee at times, you know. To loosen myself up.”

My brows knit together as I thought about what he said. “That’s not good for you.”

“I only do it sometimes, when I’m really stressed out,” Chris said shrugging and looking away for a moment. “So I usually just go with the flow when I’m on the medication, you know? And when I’m with Jeremy, he’s a cool guy and all but he really doesn’t care about stuff like that. I mean, I don’t act that way with Hemsworth or RDJ or Scarlett. Not that Jeremy is a bad guy cause he’s really not. But I just wasn’t in the best state of mind and I said something Steve Rogers wouldn’t be proud of, I know, but-”

“Holy shit, slow down,” I smirked at him, repeating the words he had previously said before. He paused in his speech and tried to read me. “I mean, it makes sense and it does seem like you’re genuinely sorry. I just don’t stand for comments like that. Especially about my girl, Natasha.”

His cheeks tinted red a bit and he laughed. “You would love Scarlett.”

“Bro, I already love Scarlett,” I shook my head with wide eyes. Chris smirked at me. “Like you do not even know. She seems so smart and funny and not to mention, she’s hot as fuck. How did you guys not date?”

He tensed up again, his smirk falling slightly, and I immediately started to apologize. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, we can stop talking about your work if you want. I totally just ramble sometimes.”

“Nah, it’s just… Scarlett is my friend and I’ve known her forever,” he brushed off the comment but I bit my lip, knowing I said something wrong. I mean, who knows? Maybe they did date and thought it was better to be friends. I really needed to stuff a sock in my mouth or something so that I shut the fuck up every once in a while.

“I know, I watch the interviews when I’m bored sometimes,” I said, nodding before realizing how creepy that sounded. “I’m sorry, I’m probably making you even more uncomfortable. I promise I’m not a stalker or anything, I watch a lot of interviews and press stuff to catch up with my favorite actors and because I want to know how someone is supposed to interact with interviewers, you know? I watch a lot of movies and stuff to see different acting methods too, I just do a lot of observing so that I can be good one day.”

“Holy shit, slow down,” Chris joked. His eyes met mine and his tense shoulders relaxing slightly. 

“You’re already good.” He was smiling at me again and I couldn’t think straight. Did he know the effect he had on me? Probably. What an asshole.

“I-I don’t know about that,” I mumbled, playing with one of my particularly interesting curls. My eyes wandered over to him again. They kept doing that and I couldn’t stop myself. I mean, where else are they going to look when I’m having a fucking conversation with him in my car. 

“Hey, why are you in my car?”

“What?”

“Shit, that came out bad, sorry. I mean, like don’t you have to get home or something?” I explained, apologetically.

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for my town car and saw you,” Chris offered the explanation and my face heated up. 

“Ooh, fancy man, got a town car,” I giggled.  He started to reply when I grabbed my phone to check the time and cursed I muttered under my breath, “It’s already 8 o’clock? Marc is so going to kill me! I told him 6 o’clock and he’s so particular about accurate time.”

“Marc?”  

“My best friend, he watches the girls when I need some help,” I said, distractedly as I typed up a reply message to Marc’s thirteen texts. I groaned as Char’s name came on screen mid-text and my ringtone played.

“I like big butts and I cannot li-“

Chris snickered as he heard the ringtone playing but I put the phone to my ear immediately. “Charlotte is fucking calling me, hold on.” Pffft, like he even knows who that is.

“SIMRAN WHERE ARE YOU?!” I held the phone away from my ear as Char shrieked on the phone. I wasn’t even on speaker phone but Chris could obviously hear her. He tried not to make a sound but he threw his head back and laughed after he saw my horrified face. “ARE YOU OKAY? WHO IS THERE? WHAT HAPPENED?”

“Charlotte, I’m fine,” I managed through a yawn. I just napped in my fucking car but was still tired as hell. “I fell asleep in my car after the audition and I just woke up.”

Char took a deep breath to calm herself. “Simran, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled into the phone before glancing back at Chris. He was busy looking at his Blackberry so I lowered my voice, “I was just at the bad place, you know? I was near an episode and I needed to calm down before driving again.”

“Sim, baby, what’s wrong?” Char’s voice immediately went soft.

I glanced back over at Chris at the same time he tried to discreetly glance at me. We both looked away, and I cleared my throat. “Nothing Char, I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” With that, we hung up.

“Look, I’m sorry for getting in the car, I just didn’t want you to stay asleep in the parking lot,” Chris said nervously as he ran a hand down his beard. God, I wanted to touch it again. This time, I’d prefer a caress instead of a slap. But to be honest, I’d take it either way. “I know now that it was weird to just come in, but at the moment, it seemed right.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I didn’t know I fell asleep,” I bit my lip absentmindedly and felt the skin break again. Fuck. Twice in a day. I cursed aloud as I tried to grab another tissue from the back but the tissue box was now behind me. “Who knows how long I would’ve stayed here. It’s a good thing you came when you did.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He furrowed his brows, his seemed worried. I nodded and he grabbed the tissue box from the back himself, offering a tissue to me. I took it gladly and dabbed my bloody lip.

“It happens a lot when I stress out. I bite my lip to try to anchor myself. I’ve always done it, for as long as I can remember,” I tried to explain as his eyes wandered down to my lips. I balled the tissue up in my hand and laughed, “I remember when I was young, my dad would yell at me to stop but it only made it worse.”

“That’s so…weird,” Chris breathed without taking his eyes away from my lips. I knew it was just because I was bleeding but damn if I didn’t think about kissing him right then and there. I shifted uncomfortably and looked out the windshield, shying away from his gaze. A car was pulling into the parking lot and I looked back at Chris checking his phone again.

“Anyway, is that your ride or something?” I pointed at the now parked car. Chris put his phone back in his pocket and nodded.  “Simran, listen,” He said, putting his hand on the doorhandle. “You’re talented and don’t worry about this audition, I am telling you it was a perfect audition.”

I exhaled and met his eyes. I gathered all my energy to mumble, “I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

That seemed good enough for him as he opened the passenger side door. He looked back at me again with a mischievous grin.

“Make sure to text me?” He winked at me and I melted into the depths of my seat. I rolled my eyes but his grin was infectious. How could I not smile back?! He still wanted to talk to me! After this and many other horribly awkward meetings! My stomach was doing flips just thinking about the possibilities.

“Get out!” I joked as I put my seatbelt on. 

He got out of the car but leaned down for the last time, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Come on, text me! You know you want to!”

God, did I want to.

I watched him walk over to the car and talk to the driver for a few moments. I looked down at my phone again and saw a text message alert I had missed from a few minutes ago.

8:11 PM Unknown Number:

 Hey I’m in ur car txting u rite now! Cool rite?!

What an adorable dork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I linked the song I had playing as well as the version Chris talks about. He mentioned it in an interview once, in 2011 I believe.  
> Simran’s song in the car: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H4UtBYUMVJk   
> Chris’ version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuIYBvsYVGI


	7. Chapter Seven

“Are you going to be okay this week? Are you going to be okay driving to and from the airport tonight?” Char asked, petting my hair as I rested my head on her shoulder. We were on the couch browsing through Netflix on this Sunday morning before she had to work tomorrow. The girls and Marc had gone to the park and God knows where. Marc knew I needed a break before what was to come this week.

“With my mom and dad coming for Maya’s birthday?” I asked, moving my head to meet eyes with her. I grimaced and shook my head, “No way.”

“Can I do anything? Can Marc?” Char pulled her golden hair into a pony tail after she settled on playing our go-to show, The Office. When in doubt, watch The Office. I shook my head once again after a moment’s thought.

“I’m not going to be the slightest bit okay until they leave,” I sighed, pulling on a strand of my hair and trying to tie a knot in it. “You know how they are.”

“At least they’re only coming to see you guys for five days,” Char insisted, trying to find some light in the situation. “Last time it was three full weeks!”

“That was for Archie’s birthday and Christmas,” I groaned, remembering how horrible the visit had been. “They kept telling me that they were having such a hard time finding me a nice Indian boy because I was too outspoken and adamant on my career choice.”

“I know, hon,” Char sighed, pulling an old throw blanket over me as she got up. “I’ll get us some popcorn, you watch Jim being cute and try to relax.”

I snuggled up to the blanket and sighed. I may as well relax while I can. Plus, I did love John Krasinski dearly. What a cutie. My phone went off and I smiled at the message.

11:34 AM Capsicle:

Saw u in the new music vid, u looked nice :)

I felt a little flustered despite him not being anywhere near me but I quickly typed out my reply. So I had texted him back on Friday night. All I said was that he was a dork and he replied with a smiley. We hadn’t texted at all on Saturday and he texted me now for the first time since then. 

Will you ever type like a normal adult, Christopher? :P

He replied only a minute later. Twice.

11:37 AM Capsicle:

Is it bad?

11:38 AM Capsicle:

I have a BB phone so it gets hard to type, sry :(

Shit, I hope I didn’t make him feel bad. I quickly looked back to the kitchen to check how busy Char was. If she knew I was texting Chris, she’d take my phone away like a loving mother. She’d probably give me a lecture too and I was not in the mood for that. She knew how worked up I was over the job and I hadn’t even gotten the news of my rejection from Lorena. 

No, you’re fine, I’m sorry! It’s just amusing

He didn’t reply immediately so I just put my phone in my lap and looked back at the TV. Char came out with a bowl of extra butter popcorn, because how else are you gonna eat that shit?, and two sodas. I scowled. “No alcohol?”

“Sim, it’s not even noon. Plus, you have to pick up your parents in like—“ she pressed the home button on my phone to check the time and groaned. “You put Chris Evans’ number into your phone as Capsicle?”

I immediately went on the defensive. “What? It’s funny! A little joke for myself.”

“And you’re texting him?” Char took my phone and read the texts over. She shook her head and tried to hide a smile. “You guys are such flirts.”

“I’ve only sent like three texts to him thus far!” I protested as I opened my Coke can. “He’s the flirty one if anything.”

“You’re right, he is doing most of the flirting. But you know it’s not good to be texting him!” she scolded me, as she looked at the newest message he sent. “God Sim, you guys are embarrassing.”

11:47 AM Capsicle:

Oh Im amusing? ;)

I bit my lip to hide the smile threatening to show. “What? He’s cute, you gotta admit.”

“Don’t answer him until you get news back from Lorena,” Char said sternly, putting my phone on the coffee table in front of us. I stiffened up as I thought about what was to come this week. Char rubbed a hand on my back and gestured for me to grab some popcorn. She softened as she saw my tense posture, “Just relax, okay?”

I nodded before turning back to the TV. 

Truth be told, I was more worried about my parents than about the audition news. I had accepted that I wouldn’t get the job but hearing my dad talk about how much of a disappointment I was yet again wasn’t something I could handle. 

This was going to be such a long week.

It was about an hour before I had to leave for the airport when I got the call for Lor. I was sitting at the dinner table with Maya, coloring a torn out page out of her Disney coloring book. Maya was bouncing up and down as she sang Under the Sea. Ariel was her favorite Disney princess and she constantly wanted to watch The Little Mermaid. I smiled as I took a pink crayon from the pile of different colors. We shared crayons and she would let me pick some of my favorites to color. It was amazing how I got along with her compared to Archie, who was in their shared room doing God knows what. I was coloring in Stitch’s mouth when—

I like big butts and I cannot lie

“Hello?” I answered immediately after seeing Lor’s name on the screen.

“Simran, I’ve got news,” Lor said, her voice indifferent. God, she always knew how to keep it a secret until she said the words, “You didn't get it” or “You got it”! No one would ever know which way it would go by the way of her voice. 

“Well, what is it?” I asked, dropping the crayon from my hand and shushing a singing Maya. She kept going but was quieter, the most I could ask for.

“Well…”

Fuck, she’s going to say no. My mind was racing at a hundred miles per second just thinking about the “You didn’t get it” she was about to say. I had already set myself up to realize I wouldn’t get the job, but that tiny glimmer of hope in me was being extinguished with her pause. It was painful to think about another rejection.

“You got it.”

Nevermind.

“WHAT?” I squealed into the phone, giddying and praying she wasn’t just messing with me. Lorena was a no-nonsense type of woman but I still worried that Ashton Kutcher’s voice would ring through the phone telling me I’d been Punk’d. That show wasn’t even on anymore and I still terrified that it would happen. That’s how fucking paranoid I was about this being a dream.

“You got Gucci Guilty, you got it!” Lorena’s smile could be heard through the phone and I was smiling so hard I felt like my face would break. Archie ran out of the room when she heard my shout and her half of her hair had been curled.

“What happened?” she panted, a hand on her raising heart and the other on her hip.

“I got Gucci Guilty!” I said, standing up from my chair and twirling around, phone still at my ear. “I got the gig!”

Archie raised her eyebrows and sent me an approving smile. “That’s actually really awesome.”

Maya smiled too but didn’t really know what was going on. “So you got a job?”

“Yes,” I threw my head back, laughing with joy. “Lor, thank you so much!”

“Oh it was all on you, hon,” Lor replied. “Percy said he loved your nerve.”

“My, uh, my nerve, huh?” I asked, laughing as I thought of how worried I had been. “I slapped his movie star in the face!”

“You slapped Chris? Well, it seems like they liked whatever that was,” Lor said and I could imagine her with furrowed eyebrows, shaking her head in a disapproving manner. “Don’t always be so ballsy, you have to play it safe sometimes.”

“I didn’t mean to! Plus, it got me the job so,” I trailed off, knowing she could hear the excitement in my voice.

Archie’s giggling pulled out of my thoughts. “You slapped Chris Evans?”

“It wasn’t on purpose, but yes,” I stuck my tongue out at her as Lor sighed in the way a mother would.

“Well, Simran, I’ll email you the details and get you in contact with Percy and the team by tomorrow,” Lor said, back to business as usual. “I want you to know I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Lorena,” I giggled into the receiver of the phone. “You rock, you know?”

“I know,” she said, confidently. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Make sure to reply to my email. Goodbye.”

I disconnected the phone and squealed. “I’m so happy you guys!”

“I’m so happy too! You got the ad with Gucci Guilty and mom and dad are coming tonight!” Archie cheered as she sat herself on the couch. I stayed seated at the dinner table. “Today’s awesome!”

“Yeah, this is so cool!” Maya agreed, getting off her chair at the dining table to sit next to Archie on the couch. They turned on the TV and were all smiles. My energy deflated a bit at the thought of my visiting parents but I nodded nonetheless. 

I had hoped the smile I wore was convincing enough. 

Archie and Maya loved Mom and Dad. Probably because they didn’t actually have to grow up with them. My mother and father were not meant to be parents, or together for that matter. An arranged marriage and the cultural stigma of divorce allowed them to stay together for the past 25 years. They constantly argued, neglected their children, and threw all their responsibilities onto their eldest, yours truly. 

I mean, I was 22 years old and taking care of my siblings because my parents were “busy” in India. Not that I didn’t love my sisters to death, because I did, but no one should ever be given this responsibility so young without a choice. Alright, so I was young and still bitter about my upbringing. There’s nothing to change the fact that things were the way they were but it didn’t mean I had to like it. 

My mother was the better parent, she always seemed to mean well and gave nice hugs. I did love her, she was just not meant to be a mother and I had accepted that. My dad, however, just loved to make sure I was in his control. He constantly needed to know I would be submissive to him and would obey him at all costs. 

The plus side was that my parents paid for everything. I never had to “worry about money” with them around and they were quite wealthy, wealthy enough to send money to their daughters for living expenses and a bit over. While I had been working towards my Marketing degree, I thought my small modeling jobs were just a hobby to get more spending money. I realized after I had gotten my degree that I had more of a chance in modeling than I did in my previous career choice of public relations. Ironic and hilarious and hard to believe? Yes. But that’s life.

Needless to say, my parents were aggravated with my sudden change. All throughout my college years, I had freedom. The girls had been with my parents in Arizona and I’d only visit twice a year. Except my parents missed India and decided to move there, shoving their other two children onto me and expecting me to be the surrogate parent. 

I took in the kids after I found a modest two-bedroom apartment. Thank God for Marc and Charlotte, I knew I would’ve drowned without their help. Archie wasn’t always getting along with me, she missed Arizona and all her friends there. I sometimes think she blamed me for the move though I had nothing to do with it. Maya was sad for the first two days but got over the move fairly quickly. She’s just a kid though, the shift wasn’t as hard for her.

“Sim!” I heard a voice in my ear, I jumped slightly as I looked at the source. Archie rolled her eyes at me but she had a grin on her face. Her braces glinted under the dim lights. “Someone’s ringing the doorbell!”

“Oh it’s probably Marc here to watch you guys,” I stood up from the table, checking the time on the way to the door. “God, I need to get going soon.”

“Baby, you look tired as hell,” Marc said to me immediately as I opened the door. He gave me a disapproving look, shaking his head and all. “You didn’t catch enough Z’s?”

“So much love,” I teased, rolling my eyes. I gestured for him to come in and we walked into the living room. “It’s just my face, Marc.”

“Your face is dumb,” Marc replied, enveloping me in a hug. I put my arms around his waist and my head on his chest. “Any Gucci news yet?” I smiled up at him brightly and he knew. His face mirrored my own as he rubbed my back. “Oh baby, that’s great!”

“I’m still in shock, I think,” I giggled before moving out of his arms. “But it’s so fucking cool.”

After I finished my sentence, I realized Marc was already getting hugs from Archie and Maya. I’m his best friend but damn, the girls took his attention a lot. He spent almost as much time with the girls as I did. He loved kids and he couldn’t wait to have his own someday.

I went to my room to change and get my purse, it was almost 8 PM anyway and I had to pick up my parents at the airport at 9:30. When I came back, Marc had Maya in his lap and Archie was telling him about school. 

“How’s Steven?” Maya asked, putting her head on his shoulder. They were so cute and comfortable, but Marc stiffened up at the message of the name.

“Steven and I broke up,” Marc replied, hugging her a little tighter to him. 

Archie made a sound of protest. “What!? But you guys were together for like three months!”

“Three months isn’t all that long,” Marc sighed. “Especially for someone who doesn’t want to admit that he’s into men.”

I raised my eyebrows as I sat on the arm of the couch. Marc played with Maya’s curls as he avoided my eyes. I frowned and put my hand on his shoulder. “He what?”

“He was in denial, said it was just an experimental thing and that he wasn’t really attracted to me,” Marc deadpanned, indicating he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and he smiled a smile not really reaching his eyes. I got up from the couch to grab my purse and phone.

“Okay, well, you guys sit tight, I’m going to bring mom and dad,” I sighed, grabbing my keys from the holder near the front door. “Wish me luck!”

I heard a chorus of “good luck”s before I shut the door. Maybe this visit wouldn’t be so bad.

——————

I was already aware that my previous hope would be wrong. I had only been with my parents for twenty minutes before realizing this visit would be just as bad, if not worse, than the previous Finding them in the airport was the easy part. Car rides sucked and probably weren’t even the hardest part either. My parents would not let up on the fucking grilling. Thankfully both decided to sit in the back but that didn’t make it much better. They just kept firing question after question, making jabs at my self esteem over and over.

“Simran, putar, did you gain weight?” 

“I don’t know, mom.”

“My god, when are you going to get taller?”

“I stopped growing, dad.”

“When did your hair get so unhealthy? Have you been using hair oil I told you to?”

“Yes, ma.”

“Do you even remember how to drive down this freeway correctly, Simran?”

“I hope so, dad.”

“Maya’s turning four?”

“Mom, she’s turning six.”

“Archana is only ten isn’t she?”

“She’s thirteen, dad.”

JESUS CHRIST. Would they ever shut up? The answer was probably no but let me pray for sweet release anyway.

By the time we made it home, my parents decided they were tired. We all said bye to Marc, my mother pinching his cheeks and giving him money. She loved Marc and thought I should marry him, she had said he was “the only exception to my rule.” Her rule being always date an Indian boy. My mother was crazy but it was okay. 

“Putar, you really should marry Marc,” my mother said as I set their suitcases in my room. I was sleeping on the pullout couch in the living room while they were here. She inspected the bedside table as she went on, “He could get you out of this ugly apartment and into a nice home. We could have grandkids.”

“Simran’s body is too weak for kids,” My father disagreed with a laugh. Fuck off, you asshole. My mother was bearable most of the time but my dad was just a jerk majority of the time. I sighed as I grabbed my extra throw blanket. I realized I may as well nip the situation in the bud and tell my mother that Marc and I would like, never ever be together.

“Marc’s in love with men, don’t you guys remember?” I replied casually, ignoring both remarks and turning to leave the room. Well, he’s bisexual but whatever. He has a preference towards men. I needed them off my back about marriage, or at least about marriage with Marc. I could hear my mother curse in Punjabi and I smirked to myself as I settled into the uncomfortable bed.

——————

Five days later, I survived my parents’ visit unscathed. Well, physically anyway. Somehow. A miracle in the truest form. The five days seemed like five fucking years but Maya’s birthday was celebrated without much problem. I just felt tired of them and when I dropped them off at the airport, I was relieved. 

I kept up with the Age of Ultron photos and Chris obviously looked fucking marvelous. I realized he was probably only in LA for the Gucci Guilty interview and the Hollywood premiere of Age of Ultron. He was a busy man who had to travel the world for the premieres and then, immediately after it seemed, start filming Captain America: Civil War. 

Archie’s giggle could be heard through the apartment when she ran to show me his “dear beard” tweet a few days ago. Poor guy had shaved the beard and I was disappointed. Not that he wasn’t hot as fuck without the beard, but that lumberjack look did stuff to me. Maybe by the time for shooting Gucci Guilty, he’d have it grown back. 

It had been maybe two weeks since we’d last texted. I was sitting in my room and going over the details of the new H&M photoshoot Lorena had set up for me. Gucci Guilty wasn’t going to be filming until September in order to fit Chris’ schedule and that meant I wouldn’t have the money until around that time. I had to build a portfolio, so there was no use just waiting around. This was around the time Chris texted me again. 

2:04 PM Capsicle:

I’m gonna be on a flight to Germany soon but I just heard the news from Gucci. Congratulations to you, my new coworker :) This means we should be talking more!

I covered my face with my hands and tried to calm myself down. The “My new coworker” line was going to go through my head for ages, I could already tell. I tried to remind myself that he was just another guy and was human but it’s tough to remember that. 

Wow, full sentences now? What’s up with that, old man? 

I had meant to just tease him but then I realized I was being rude for not thanking him so I sent another text. I probably seemed desperate by sending multiple texts but whatever. It can just be a simple thank you.

Thank you very much though! 

I waited for a few moments and then my phone buzzed, showing his name on the screen. It was becoming a familiar sight and I loved it.

2:07 PM Capsicle:

I got a new phone and it’s easy now. :) No need to tease me, young lady.  
 I giggled to myself and decided to tease him just a bit more. 

Have fun in Germany, is it for CA:CW or is that sensitive info? :P 

2:09 PM Capsicle:

Oh, it’s definitely sensitive info but yes. ;) Daniel Bruhl is sitting next to me on the flight and won’t stop asking who I’m texting.

I paused for a moment as I carefully thought of how I wasn’t going to fangirl and remain chill.

THE Daniel Bruhl? Inglourious Basterds Nazi asshole? OMFG I’M SCREAMING

What part of chill did I not know the definition of?

2:11 PM Capsicle;

The one and only, yeah! Hold on

I waited for a few minutes before I got another notification. It… was a video. Holy fucking shit.

The phone camera quality was surprising nice, not amazing but it was a phone so what did you expect? Chris looked tired as fuck but he was smiling really big and had a hat on that said “Natural Addiction.” Next to him was Daniel, looking equally as tired but smiling as well. They looked at the camera and Chris was snickering as Daniel started to speak.

“Hello Simran, I’m Daniel! Chris here said you were screaming over me.” 

I started to squeal but then Chris turned the camera on himself a bit more to speak. He looked beautiful, to be quite honest. His blue eyes were still bright and his freckles were so cute. He licked his lips and I immediately wanted to kiss him.

“Hey Simran, I just thought we’d say hi before the flight took off. Hope you love your new coworker even more now that I got the quote, unquote Inglourious Basterds Nazi asshole to say hi,” Chris looked like he was trying not to laugh but he got through it. “Talk to you later! Maybe tonight if Daniel doesn’t drag me out to the bars and make me his wingman.”

“Oh we’re going to the bars,” Daniel said, pointing the phone back at himself. “Chris will still text you tonight though, boy can’t go a day without-”

Without what? The fuck?

Chris could be heard saying “Dude, shhh” but Daniel just winked and waved. The video ended and I was in shock for a few minutes but I finally replied to his message.

You are the coolest old man I know, have a safe flight.

He didn’t reply after that so I went on with my day. 

I got ready for bed around 1 AM when I got another text. It was an image this time of Chris. Someone else was taking the photo and Chris was clearly drunk as fuck. His red-rimmed eyes and drink in hand was evidence enough but the hat on backwards and tongue out helped with my analysis. He looked so fucking cute and fun and like he knew how to have a good time. I sighed before putting my phone on the bedside table. 

I couldn’t wait to see this meatball in September. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This one was a long one! Putar means son/daughter or “my child” in Punjabi, a language originating in India. Not much of actual Chris in this chapter but I’ll make it up somehow! There’s some time jumps but it’s only by like a few weeks.


	8. Chapter Eight

Over the months, Chris and I texted each other quite a bit. 

He asked me, mid-May, if I watched Age of Ultron and to not to hold back on what I wanted to say. So I told him every problem I had, “Bruce and Natasha, really? Really?” as well as everything I loved, “But SERIOUSLY, how did you tear that motherfucking log?” He just LOL’d me a lot. 

I told him “Happy birthday, you old man!” in June and he told me the same, but in a nicer way, in early August. He often talked about how much he wanted his beard back and in August, he bragged about going to Disneyland. I admitted I was jealous but was living vicariously through him.

But by far the best thing was that he would randomly send pictures of dogs to me. Just dogs he saw online or even in the street, he’d just take pictures of them. That was a great part of my day. He even opened up about his dog that had died a few years back and said he was thinking about getting another one. I, of course, backed that idea.

He would ask to play 20 questions, “You know, to get to know each other better ;)”, and I would often wonder when he would ask me what I was wearing or if I was a virgin. It was bound to happen. Kidding, kidding — but I constantly prayed he wouldn’t ask. 

I would tease Chris about how boring as fuck he was. I learned that his favorite color was blue, his favorite place was Boston, his favorite food was coconut curry (okay, that last one wasn’t actually boring). But the man used to collect coins, for fuck’s sake. All boring, old man things that I brought up as a joke. However, Chris also told me that he loved to draw and paint, that he loved the idea of romance and dogs and his family. I had to admit that was adorable. 

I didn’t want to reveal as much but I think I did. I mean, I told him my favorite color (green), my favorite food (butter chicken with naan), and my favorite place (Disneyland). He replied that Disneyland was a close second to Boston in his heart. I told him I was a bigger Disney fanatic than him. We got off track for a bit to argue about that.

He asked if I ever collected anything, in reference to him collecting coins, and I said “The souls of men who have wronged me.” That got an LOL from him.

Then my hobbies were brought into question and I had to think about it. I told him I liked watching way too much TV and movies for an aspiring actress, figuring out Sudokus, and yoga, adding a “Not just because I’m Indian, you fuck” at the end of the sentence. 

When he asked me what I loved I realized he was just asking the same questions back at me, but that was okay. I said I loved dogs as well, more than anything. I also mentioned that I loved my sisters and my friends. I said I hated a lot more things than I loved. That was probably a little personal but at that point, I didn’t care and he didn’t mention it.

We had a great texting relationship. But that was over texts. Like, you all know how usually it’s awkward when you’ve been texting for a while and not actually talking in person? I constantly worried that when shooting rolled around, we would still be awkward as fuck. If not worse than before since we knew a lot more about each other. 

But soon it was September and we were going to meet each other again regardless of my fears of awkwardness. The day came quick, almost too quick. I was admittedly nervous to meet Chris again. I didn’t want my beautiful image of him tarnished somehow. 

Last time we saw each other, he’d been sitting in my car and hearing Char try to chew me out. That was months ago. We were both literally a year older and we had gotten to know each other better. Things were probably going to be awkward and different, I knew they would be. But it was hard to accept it just yet.

So when I walked into the studio, I tried to avoid looking for him just yet. I greeted the production manager who sent me to an assistant that gave me a rundown, met with the stylist and fashion director (who were harsh but whatever, I was getting thicker skin), and talked to the director. He told me about the CGI use and to go get ready with the stylist. It was fucking exhausting already.

My hair was done in messy curls, the waves were teased dramatically and the hairspray used was way too strong. My hair still fell passed my waist despite the curls and teasing. I had two outfit changes and one day where we would basically be naked, but for the first two days, I would be wearing a black leather mini skirt and tight black blouse. My boobs were basically ready to bust out of the top but I tried to keep them down.

Getting your makeup done by others should probably be a calming experience but in Hollywood, it usually fucking sucked for any person of color. No one knows how to do your makeup and more often than not, you have to bring your own foundation since they don’t have your shade. I had to bring my own foundation to this shoot unfortunately. 

Thankfully, while the makeup artist didn’t have my color, she still knew how to do makeup on a darker skinned girl. She focused on my eyes and brows, winged eyeliner and thick brows. The false eyelashes were annoying but I had already had a few photoshoots to know they were essential. The face was pretty simple, with a harsh contour for the camera to pick up and a bright highlighter to emphasize my cheekbones. My lips were painted with a simple, peachy nude lipstick. She assured me that the lipstick wouldn’t smudge during the intimate scenes. I really didn’t want to think about that at the moment…

After I was done with makeup, I had some downtime before we were going to be called to the set. I was lusting after the food table when I heard someone clearing their throat. I looked up and met Chris’ eyes. I could only avoid him for so long, I guess.

God. He looked so fucking good. He didn’t have his full lumberjack beard but his scruff was there. He was in a black v-neck sweater that was way too fucking tight and dark jeans. He had a smirk on his face and glanced back at the food.

“It looks good huh?” 

“Hell yeah it does,” I agreed, looking away from his eyes and back to the table too. 

“You look good too,” He added, and I could feel his eyes on me as I stared straight ahead. It didn’t sound seductive or flirty, he sounded like he genuinely meant it which made it ten times worse. My face was heating up but I looked back at him with a sly grin on my face.

“Thanks. You’re lookin’ alright, I guess,” I teased. “But when are you ever going to wear a shirt that actually fits?”

Chris’ smile faded for a moment before looking down at his shirt. “This fits!” His smile came back full force. 

“Just because you can squeeze yourself into it doesn’t mean it actually fits, Christopher!” 

“Look who’s talking!” He winked at me before I glanced down at my own attire. Okay, he got me there. My boobs were spilling out of the top of the shirt. “And, might I add, my mother calls me Christopher less often than you do.”

“Okay, 1) I didn’t choose the shirt and 2) It’s fun to call you Christopher instead of Chris,” I stuck my tongue out at the cackling movie star before giggling myself.

“Who says I chose my shirt?” He asked when our laughter died down and I shrugged. 

“Who says I give a fuck?” I said, raising my eyebrow at him. He sent me another wink before grabbing a handful of almonds from the table. “And for God’s sake, stop winking.”

“Why? We’re already going to be doing some suggestive things here,” Chris wiggled his eyebrows at me as I glared up at him. He threw some almonds into his mouth and grinned. “May as well get into character, am I right?”

I heard a voice say, “Places in five minutes!” behind us and decided it was best to get going.

“Shut up, Christopher,” I replied as I grabbed a water bottle from the table, sending him a smile before I started to walk away. “See ya there.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna need that water when we’re done!” He called after me. I turned back to stick my tongue out at him again and kept walking, hiding a smile. 

Why was I ever worried? Chris was probably the least awkward person to be in this situation with. I was a very awkward person but he was good at fixing that. He made me feel like we’d known each other for years and that I was the only girl in the room he wanted to talk to. Even if it wasn’t true, it was nice.

——————

We were on the bar set. In this scene, I was supposed to be having a drink with a couple of friends when Chris walked in. He would spot me, order me a drink and when I caught his eye I would go up and start to talk to him. Then Chris was supposed to pick me up, place me on the counter, and start making out with me in front of everyone. 

We’d already done the first part a couple of times with the director cutting in to give input. He made us stop and start over a lot which didn’t really help my nerves.

To say I was simply nervous was an understatement. I didn’t really care about how many people watched us, that didn’t matter. But like come on, I was about to be making out with Chris fucking Evans. I had some fucking butterflies in my stomach. I did my best not to bite my lip but I did do it a bit anyway. I tried not to think about it but it was coming up in just a few moments. This was nerve-wracking as hell. 

All his teasing aside, I was getting pretty antsy. Hopefully after the first day, I would be fine though. I think Chris sensed my nerves when I was chewing on my bottom lip, it was probably a dead giveaway. He sent me a reassuring smile and thumbs up before walking to his place. I smiled back but I was still really fucking nervous. 

I reminded myself how technical this scene was supposed to be, as all scenes were. There wasn’t going to be anything sexy about it, we were in a room full of people and cameras. I just kept this in my head as we got ready. The director had said this take would be the one where we could go through with the making out. Well, thanks for the green light. 

When the director said action, Chris walked in for like the seventh fucking time. I fake giggled with the two girls next to me before a “drink” was placed in front of me, yet again. The bartender pointed at Chris, who sent me a smoldering look that surely would’ve gotten any girl, including me, out of her panties. I got up from my seat and sauntered (like the director told me to do in the fourth take) over to him. 

I looked up into his deep blue eyes and bit my lip subconsciously, trying to cherish the moments I was blissfully unaware of how his full lips would feel against mine. Chris would eternally ruin other men for me. 

He was all business as he picked up from the waist and placed me roughly on the countertop, my hands gripping his shoulders. The second my ass hit the surface, Chris wrapped my legs around his waist and had his hands in my hair. He was pulling me towards him to close the distance between us.

This is it.

Our noses touched first and I noted that his breath still smelled like almonds before our lips made contact. My eyes fluttered closed and I swore I could hear myself softly moaning before we really even did anything. Time went by slow at this point. His soft lips eagerly sought mine as I moved my hands slowly from his shoulders to his toned chest, rubbing circles. 

I sighed into the kiss softly and pressed him closer to me. His hands traveled from my hair to my back as he tried to close the space between us. The skirt was a bit restricting but it had been slightly pulled up since my legs were around Chris. 

I regretfully broke the kiss for a moment to breathe as Chris started running his lips over my jawline, near my neck. Oh god no, I wouldn’t be able to survive if this man started kissing my neck. 

“WAIT! You guys need to be rougher with each other.”

I didn’t know whether to thank or curse god at this very moment. 

Chris moved away from me immediately and I already missed his presence. I cleared my throat awkwardly and he avoided my eyes. That got me worried for a moment, so I got thinking about how bad of a kisser I must’ve been. I mean, I only had limited practice and Chris obviously knew how to kiss. Fuck. I was probably some amateur little girl to him. Well, this was all a fucking mistake. I shouldn't have even come here—

I glanced back up and all my worries disappeared the moment Chris gifted me with a genuine, comforting smile. No winking or smirking, just a smile. I tried to return it with the same caliber of reassurance but it probably didn’t hold a candle to him. I had already accepted that Chris radiated inspiring positivity and encouragement while I stunk of devastating doubt and fear. 

But his smile told me everything was okay.

The rest of the day was a blur, with the exceptions of the times me and Chris got to kiss. 

Those moments I fucking savored. I couldn't even explain how amazing it was to kiss him. Imagine kissing someone that made you feel warm and important. When Chris kissed me, he made me feel similar to how he did when he talked to me. In a good way. I felt like I was the most precious thing in the world to him and like he never wanted to let me out of his arms. 

When we ended for the day, I took my final gulps of water before packing up my purse. Last I checked Chris had been speaking to the director but when I glanced back up, he was making his way towards me. 

“Hey, how do you feel?” Chris asked, the warmth in his voice melted me. His eyes looked me over and I wanted to shrink in his gaze. Fuck.

“I’m good,” I assured him, a small smile on my face. Oh, so suddenly I was fucking shy? I make out with the guy like four times for the sake of entertainment and I decide that afterwards is the best time to be shy? “What about you?”

“I’m fine, first days are always a bit hectic,” Chris replied, looking around the busy room of people getting ready to go home. His hat was on backwards and I had the urge to make fun of him for it, but he did look good. He cleared his throat before glancing back down at me. “You’re all ready to go?”

“Yeah?” I said unsurely, looking down at myself. The fuck does that mean? Do I look like shit?

The clothes I had changed into for the drive home weren’t very attractive. Black leggings and an oversized blue/green flannel with Converse sneakers because I was lazy and needed a basic outfit. I had promised myself I would somehow remove the makeup plastered on my face at home and brush through some of my disastrous hair tonight before bed.

Chris hesitated, he ran a hand over his scruff and smiled to himself. He looked like he was deciding on whether or not to say something. Apparently deciding to bite bullet, he asked, “You don’t feel awkward, right?”

“Huh?”

“You know, like with us? Like with me?”

“Wait, what? Li-like with us? Like, each other? Nah, I’m fine. Kissing you was fine. That wasn’t weird or anything,” I rambled nervously. ”Not that you’re a weird kisser. I just mean we’re all good. We’re bros, right? Like-- we’re cool. Haha, whatever.”

Smooth.

I wanted to smack myself. Chris looked amused but nodded nonetheless. His grin was infectious. “Bros? I like that. We’re gonna be awesome bros.”

Bro, I want to fuck you though.


	9. Chapter Nine

The schedule was a bit weird for the ad. Whoever made it was an idiot. Chris had to be out by a specific time because he had press for a new movie he had made, so that was tough. Plus, we were filming right before Labor Day weekend, so we had a huge break after today before resuming filming on Tuesday. Like, what the fuck?

The second day of filming was the same scene as the previous day, so when I saw Chris after my makeup and hair was done, I already had butterflies in my stomach. He greeted me with a hug this time, surprisingly, and I had to carefully avoid getting makeup on any of his clothes.

“So, they didn’t hide any of your tattoos?” I asked, swiping a water bottle from the food table. 

“Nah, they said it looked edgy,” Chris’ eyebrows rose, a dorky smile in place. “I’m glad too, because I love them.”

“Yeah, the chest one is really nice,” I agreed, taking a swig of water. “What’s it say?”

“Okay, so I promise I’m not some fake Buddhist asshole…”

“Oh, that’s a great opening,” I replied, sarcastically. I set down the water bottle on the food table and placed my hands on my hips with my left eyebrow raised. 

He laughed lightly but continued, “It’s a quote by Eckhart Tolle. It says ‘When you lose touch with inner stillness, you lose touch with yourself. When you lose touch with yourself, you lose yourself in the world.’ I like to think it keeps me grounded.” 

Chris even pulled the collar of his shirt down and lowered himself to have his chest eye level for me. Just to show me the quote up close. Someone call the police, this boy was trying to kill me. 

“I love it,” I replied softly. “It sounds awesome. Tell me more about it later.”

“So you believe me when I say I appreciate Buddhism, right?” he clarified, adjusting his shirt but still leaning down. I could feel his warmth and if I had moved any closer we would be touching. I licked my lips without moving my eyes away from his chest and absently nodded. Chris laughed again and I tore my eyes away from his toned chest. 

“What?” I laughed as well. “You know, you have a nice chest.”

“Well, thank you,” Chris teased before gesturing to my own chest, the shirt still emphasizing my assets all too well. “You do too.”

“Aha, very funny.”

“I thought so.”

Silence. 

We stared at each other for a few moments before I cleared my throat. 

“We should get going,” I finally said, smiling up at him and grabbing his forearm to guide him. It’s not like he needed guidance to get to the set but I just loved touching the guy, okay? “Come on.”

——————

“You know, we’ve done this scene at least fifteen times today,” Chris murmured as he stood between my legs, his hands resting on my hips. We were taking a moment for the director to discuss something with the cameraman but were told to stay in place. “But I still can’t tell what flavor gum you were chewing before? It’s… spicy?”

“It’s cinnamon,” I threw my head back as I laughed. Chris made a disgusted sound before joining in and it made me laugh even more. “You’re so white.”

“Hey, I’m gonna make you shut up in a minute,” Chris warned, wagging his finger in front of my face. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Who says I’m not gonna be the one making you shut up?” I argued, wiggling my eyebrows at him. I liked how comfortable we had become. We were getting pretty good at this banter thing. We could even be considered friends or, like I eloquently said yesterday, bros. 

“I’m not gonna complain,” Chris winked back. I raised my eyebrows at him challengingly but I knew I probably didn’t look menacing since he just laughed. 

“Guys, back to the scene! Everyone ready?”

With the director’s cue, I tried to remind myself that this was technical, that it was filming and not at all hot. I mean, it probably wasn’t as good of a kiss as if Chris had actually wanted to kiss me. If Chris kissed me like he wanted to kiss a girl he wanted to have sex with or a girlfriend or something…That would probably be so hot that I would explode. But I still believed making out with a hot guy, despite having many people and cameras around, was still hot. 

I immediately put my right hand behind Chris’ head while my left cradled his bearded face. Chris gripped my waist as I wrapped my legs tighter around his body. His lips pressed firmly against mine for a few moments before his tongue made an appearance. Well, that was quick. I hesitantly opened my mouth and shivered when our tongues made contact. We ravaged each other’s mouths hungrily, our tongues dancing together as our hands moved over each other’s covered bodies. 

I may or may not have let out a small moan. But let’s hope he didn’t hear it.

After the first kiss from yesterday, we had been a lot rougher with each other. Not that I had a problem with it. Chris was an amazing kisser, there was no denying that. It felt surreal to be here, kissing him. When we were given the cue to stop, I would clearly be disappointed with not being able to lip-lock with him anymore. Hopefully not visibly though, because it would be awkward to have to explain to Chris that I wanted him to kiss me for hours. 

When we pulled away, the director seemed satisfied with the scene.

“That’s a wrap for today, I think,” he told us as we untangled ourselves from each other. I was still on the counter and he was still way too close to me, however. “Good work!”

“Nailed it,” Chris pumped his fist in the air, before offering a hand to help me get down. I gladly took it and adjusted my skirt when I got on my feet. I really didn’t want to flash my ass at him or something. “You know, you do this really cute thing…”

“What?” I asked absent-mindedly as I fixed my blouse’s positioning. It would have been incredibly awkward to have a nipslip right now. It’d be best to make sure no body parts were shown that weren’t required to be. I start walking off the set and Chris followed like a golden retriever. With that image, I smiled to myself.

“You have this like small, breathy moan you do,” Chris started to say, a huge smile spreading across his face as if he was recalling what we did moments ago. My smile immediately fell. Fuck. So he did hear it. I was so stupid, obviously he would’ve heard it. The man’s mouth had been against mine! Fucking Simran. “Is that an acting thing or…?”

“Jesus, shut the fuck up,” I laughed nervously as I grabbed an extra water bottle from the food table, shaking my head. “Just—Shut up.”

“It’s not, is it?” Chris asked, in a singsong voice. I rolled my eyes. Damn it, Chris.

“I’m gonna kick your ass if you keep talking, Christopher,” I warned, my pointer finger pushing against his chest. 

“Yeah, real scary,” he teased as his warm hand wrapped around my wrist. “With these baby fists of yours?”

“Goddamn it, Chris, just shut up,” I scoffed but there was a small smile on my face. He had a huge grin on his face and I had the urge to smack it off. With that said, I started to walk towards my dressing room.

I was surprised to see him at the same spot when I came back out. There were still crew members but not nearly as busy as ten minutes ago. Chris had his own bag slung over his shoulder as he looked at his phone. So he had gotten his stuff but came back. Chris glanced back up at the sound of the room door opening and grinned when he saw me.

I didn’t know why, since I absolutely looked like shit. I had opted for makeup remover wipes to do most of the dirty work before I went home to wash my face completely. I had also put my hair in a bun but it looked more like a bird’s nest on top of my head. My clothes weren’t much better, I had on black cotton yoga shorts and an old Superman t-shirt with some Converse. 

Chris clutched a hand to his heart as he looked at the superhero’s symbol spread across my chest. “You wound me!”

“Oh well,” I shrugged, a small smirk appearing on my face. “Cap’s cool but…”

“You know I met Cavill a while back, at the BAFTAs. He’s an alright guy, I guess,” Chris stated, rubbing the back of his neck. “We drank some champagne together and I presented an award with him. Dude does have a nice beard though.”

“What? You’re trying to impress me or something, Evans?” I laughed. “Because it is impressive. That man is fucking sex on legs. Henry Cavill could so get it.”

“Get what?” Chris sputtered, obviously surprised. I laughed at his expression and shrugged.

“You know what,” I winked. 

“Oh man, you are something else,” Chris shook his head vigorously as if to get the idea out of his head. He ran a hand carefully over his re-slicked back hair. He probably got it fixed up after hours of me pulling and grabbing on it for the scene. It was my favorite thing to do during our “Not-Hot-But-Actually-Are” makeout sessions.

“What?! He could!”

“It’s the British accent, isn’t it?” 

“…Maybe.”

“Predictable,” Chris teased, rolling his eyes. I giggled at his exasperation.

“What can I say? Tall, blue eyed men with accents get me going.” I shrugged as I walked towards the exit. 

“You know, I have an accent since I’m from Boston,” Chris called after me, jogging to catch up. “And I’m tall and I have blue eyes.”

“But you don’t get me going,” I giggled as I pushed open the door, holding it for him as well. 

“Ah, now you’ve really wounded me,” Chris pouted, grabbing his keys from his pocket. 

“Sorry, bro,” I stuck my tongue out at him as I took out my own keys. “What’s your movie’s name again? Maybe I’ll catch it this weekend!”

“Oh God, maybe you shouldn’t,” Chris sighed as we walked to our cars. His lips turned upward to a smile. “I feel like you’d give me shit for it. You bust my balls about everything.”

“Nah, you’re just too sensitive,” I mocked as I started to walk in other direction. His car was a bit closer to the building than mine was. 

“Nah, you’re just a jerk,” Chris laughed. I snickered as I unlocked my car.

“Have a good weekend, old man!”

——————

I was annoyed. I shouldn’t have been. I had no reason to be. But I was annoyed.

It was Tuesday and I had to see Chris again. I didn’t know why the tabloids had put me in a bad mood, but they did. I had come across some pictures of him that morning and the press was going crazy. Chris was spotted with an ex girlfriend yesterday, walking their dogs. 

Plus, he didn’t text me at all this weekend. Not that I texted him either, but still. 

I don’t know why it made me so upset. I guess maybe I just missed him. Or maybe I just felt like the press was stupid as fuck. But then why would I be annoyed with him? I don’t know.

At least he got a new dog, I thought to myself bitterly. I didn’t even really understand why I was in such a sour mood. It’s not like I was going to go after Chris, that would never happen. Him being spotted with an ex-girlfriend wasn’t even important or anything, it could’ve meant anything. Not that it was any of my business nor within my right to find out.

And yet, here I was stewing in my own aggravation. For no valid reason.

I came to set with a mission to avoid Chris. But that obviously didn’t last long considering I was doing the fucking ad with him. After hair and makeup, Chris found me with ease. 

When he greeted me on this horrible Tuesday morning with a hug, I weakly wrapped my arms around his muscular torso. His arms felt like goddamn clouds and it still didn’t make me feel any better. He looked down, blue eyes filled with worry. 

“You okay?” He asked, pulling himself away from me and putting his hands on my shoulders. “Bad weekend or something?”

“Yeah, it’s just been a long one,” I sighed, avoiding his eyes. I needed to get off this topic. I forced a smile on my face. “Did you get a new dog?” 

Not like this topic would be any fucking better, Simran. You just looooove torturing yourself, don’t you? Fucking crazy, I swear. He’s going to think you’re a creep. You are a creep!

Chris dropped his hands from my shoulders and moved them to his hips. He looked surprised and confused at the sudden subject change. “What?”

“You were walking a dog yesterday, right? It’s like on a lot of gossip websites for some reason,” I yawned because I had been up foolishly late as always. I tried to look casual and not like I was annoyed.

Chris’ eyes lit up as he realized what I was talking about. Must’ve been a great fucking weekend for him then. “Oh, that’s not my dog! That’s Minka’s!”

“Oh cool!” I nodded, recognizing her name from the article.

I was trying to act normal, like I didn’t want to fight Minka over Chris. Not that I really did. I didn’t want to. I didn’t, I swear. Whatever, you know. The guy deserved whoever he wanted. Fuck, stop being fucking jealous, Simran. Who knows, she’s probably a great gal? Don’t be an asshole. You didn’t have a chance anyway. Just stop thinking about it.

“Yeah, I should get a dog though,” Chris wistfully said, not mentioning Minka again even though her name hadn’t left my mind. I’d probably look her up later, because I was a bitter bitch. She looked better in those casual paparazzi pictures than I did all dolled up. As if the fucker read my mind, he glanced back at me with a grin. “You look great again, by the way.”

I snorted, “Yeah, right. Thanks.” As established before, not as good as Minka, that’s for sure.

The makeup artist had focused on my lashes instead of eyeliner for the new scene change. She put on a dark, vampy red lip that was probably as dark as blood. My eyebrows were full and my cheekbones were defined, with a slight blush to give color to my face. My hair was curled in the same way as before, that meant it was going to suck when I had to brush it out tonight.

I had on a tight-fitting, strapless white dress with some nude, platform stiletto heels that were way too fucking tall for me. Like they were probably six inches tall because I was almost able to tuck under Chris’ chin. The pearls around my neck were apparently supposed to be broken off in the scene, so I had to be gentle with them at the moment. 

“No, seriously!” Chris disagreed, resting his hand on my shoulder as he tried to look me in the eye. I played with the pearl earring on my right ear as I averted my eyes to the ground. “You know I’m serious, right?” 

I laughed a bit breathlessly and shook my head, brushing off his hand. I couldn’t think straight majority of the time when he touched me. “Just shut up, Christopher.”

But I guess he didn’t want to listen. He frowned, “Please tell me you know I’m serious.”

“Shhh,” I put a finger up to my mouth and rolled my eyes.

“I don’t get it,” Chris muttered, his eyebrows pulled downward. He looked genuinely confused. “You’re a model, you’re on your way to being an actress. You know you’re good-looking, right?”

I shrugged and bit the inside of my mouth. I would’ve bit my lip but I knew I would be killed if I ruined my lipstick. “You know this industry is really good at tearing down self esteem.” 

He needed to shut the fuck up before he unleashed a can of worms. The can of worms being my insecurities. It really didn’t take much to release them.

“Yeah but—” Chris started to disagree and I groaned. 

Well, he unleashed the can of worms. Like I said, it didn’t take much. Especially after being in such a bad mood already.

“My forehead is too small and my neck isn’t long enough,” I snapped, repeating just some of the things that had been said to me over the course of my short career. “I have wide hips and my ass is oddly shaped.” Chris’ eyebrows rose in surprise but I continued. “My eyes are a boring brown, my hair is too long but my legs aren’t long enough, obviously. Oh and can I get my skin lightened?”

The things people had said to me stuck with me, even if they weren’t that bad. I knew coming into the show business industry that it’d be like this but it’s hard to prepare for it. Hell, it’s impossible to prepare for it. 

I furrowed my eyebrows, crossing my arms over my chest. I felt the familiar stinging in my eye but I didn’t cry. I didn’t want to ruin my makeup. I didn’t want to seem like such a baby. I had asked for this career.

“Look, Simran—“

“I’ve grown a thicker skin, don’t worry about it,” I cringed, trying to avoid his eyes. I just revealed so many of my imperfections, not that he couldn’t see them for himself, but saying them out loud was a bit different. Pointing them out myself was humiliating and I had done it without a fucking second thought.

“I know you’ve heard this a million times but,” Chris’ eyes flickered down to mine to make sure I wouldn’t interrupt him again. “Everyone gets told bullshit that isn’t true. Trust me, not one thing you just said is true.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t just brush it off,” Chris frowned. “Now, go grab some food before we get on set.”

But you just brushed it off, didn’t you? I thought to myself. I sighed, knowing he didn’t want to argue, or whatever this had been, any more and I was feeling like shit anyway. Why would he care? He was just being fucking nice and I didn’t want to read into it. I didn’t want to make up some ideas in my head that he actually thought I was worth a chance or something. He just didn’t want me having a mental breakdown on set. 

Grumbling under my breath about how tired I was, I grabbed a water bottle and some mini cheese burgers before walking away from him. I did love food. But I didn’t even glance back at him. 

There was obviously tension and I didn’t know how to fix it, so I walked away from it instead. Totally being an adult here.

——————

We were in the back of a fake car and I had to straddle him for the whole scene. Of course.

The director told us to “be vocal” like that didn’t want to make me die of fucking embarrassment. It wasn’t like we were actually having sex here but we were imitating something like it. It was especially going to be tough since we just had a little weird moment that I wasn’t sure I could call a fight. 

The director said “ACTION!” and I immediately crawled on to Chris’ lap as seductively as I possibly could. Instead of even trying to look at his eyes, I focused on his lips. They were begging to be kissed anyway and I enjoyed the idea of smearing my lipstick all over his mouth. 

I grabbed the back of his head and pushed him towards my mouth. His hands immediately went to my hips and his thumbs rubbed my hip bones as our mouths made contact. A swarm of butterflies erupted in my stomach as his gentle but demanding mouth melded with mine.

When I kissed him, I felt like I was in a warm heaven. I had said it before and I would say it again, Chris Evans knew how to fucking kiss.

His lips were divine and pouty. I sucked on his lower lip and bucked into his perfect body. I shoved my tongue into his mouth because I decided I didn’t want to wait much longer. He gasped slightly but recovered as his grip tightened on my hips. He pulled me down against him and I could feel the hardness underneath me, shocking me enough to let out a soft moan. I shouldn’t have been surprised, we were still stimulating each other even if it was acting.

He took that moment of weakness to making his way down my jaw, nipping slightly. One of his hands made its way to my ass and again, I was in shock. I knew the director had told us to have fun with it but damn, Chris really was having some fucking fun. 

His hand squeezing my ass brought me out of my thoughts and I decided to move one hand under his shirt while the other hand gripped his bearded jaw. I was not disappointed to feel his flat, but hard abdomen underneath.

I let out a small exhale against his hair as he tried to bury himself into my neck. Jesus help me. In order to try to focus, I dragged a tentative kiss on his cheek, marking it with red. Then on the side of his jaw, and thought the lipstick smears looked interesting. 

I made sure the camera was focused on me as I pulled his head back by his hair suddenly. He even let out a surprised moan. I ran my lips lightly over his throat and felt him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing as I made my way down. I could see the goosebumps starting to form—

“CUT!”

Fuck, just when I was getting into it. We both froze and I moved to get off but Chris’ hand was still tightly gripping my ass. I said an ‘ahem’ and he mumbled a sorry with a nervous chuckle. 

“Great job with that guys, but Chris, you forgot to pull at the pearls,” the director said. “There is a specific cue for that. Get yourselves touched up and we’ll do it again.”

Oh God.

——————

After we finished for the day, I quickly went to my dressing room. When I walked out, Chris was distracted and talking on his phone. But he was still trying to wait for me. I couldn’t hear much of what was being said and I didn’t want to be nosy anyway. 

Realizing I would ruin whatever friendship we had if I talked to him right now, I swiftly walked past him with my headphones in. He said my name but I acted like I didn’t hear him. He didn’t follow me, I could only assume he took the hint.

Running away from conflict was something I was very good at.

My drive home consisted of me calling myself an idiot repeatedly. I don’t know why I revealed so many of my insecurities to him and I didn’t want it happening again. 

Archie could tell something was wrong when I came home but I tried to keep a straight face. I didn’t even really know what was wrong, I just felt bad. I just felt like I revealed too much to Chris and that it would scare him away from even being friends with me. 

I mean, acting like I didn’t notice him waiting outside my dressing room for me probably didn't make an indication that I wanted to be friends though. But I was a dumbass and hadn’t thought of that when I had done it. 

——————

The next day was easier than I had expected, Chris and I seemed back to normal. He just came up and greeted me the same as the day before. He probably didn’t want filming to be weird, but it was still a sweet thing to do.

Maybe I was just overreacting to the situation or maybe he didn’t think it was as big a deal as I had. Maybe I was just tense because I was stupid as hell? Or stressed out? 

Chris made me feel like nothing had been wrong the day before and for that, I was thankful. We laughed a lot, made a lot of jokes and shooting was easy for the day. 

When we finished for the day, he waited for me again outside my dressing room. I think it was becoming a habit for him. But I wasn’t complaining at all.

I left my hair down but I had on shorts and another superhero shirt, similar to Friday’s attire. This time it was just to tease him though. 

“The Hulk?” Chris questioned as I walked towards him.

“It’s Marvel, you can’t give me too much shit for it.”

“But still no Cap?”

“How do you know I even have a Cap shirt?” I teased as we started walking to the parking lot. 

“If you’ve got a Cap poster, you’ve got a Cap shirt,” Chris quipped, a satisfied grin on his face. Smug son of a bitch. 

“Oh my god, will you ever let that go?” I shook my head with a smile. “I do love Steve Rogers.”

“Me too, honey, me too,” Chris laughed. 

I nearly froze at the endearment but I shoved it out of my head as quickly as possible. We had some small talk as we walked. I talked about this potential movie I was hoping for, a supporting role because “Unless I’m Mindy Kaling, they are not letting an Indian girl be a lead” I told him. Chris went with me to my car, even though his was much closer to the front. It wasn’t normal so I was waiting for him to say something. 

“So, I forgot to tell you earlier but there’s going to be a wrap party,” Chris started as I unlocked the passenger side of my car. I gave him a confused look as threw my bag in. “Well, not officially but I rented this small club out for it on Saturday. The crew and all my friends are invited. Seeing as you’re my friend…” He trailed off, looking at me expectantly.

“Oh, we’re friends now?” I joked, but my heart raced at the fact that he said so. Thank God we were still friends. Friends was good. Friends was enough. How many people could say they were friends with Chris Evans?

“Well, seeing as you said, we’re bros,” he mocked me, tugging on one of my curls. I slapped his hand away but Chris’ grin was in full force. 

“Ha ha. Hmm, let me think about it,” I replied as I shut the passenger door and walked over to the driver’s side. He followed and patiently waited for a response. I turned and smiled up at him. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it is. Get your ears checked, old man.”

——————

Naked photoshoots with Chris Evans were going to be the death of me. 

I mean, the positions they put us in were all obviously intimate and it was hard to breathe around this brickhouse of a man. The plus side was that Lor got the contract for me to be in a thong. No one here was going to see my bare vagina anytime soon.

Chris’ naked torso should not have affected me as heavily as it did. I mean, we had cameras everywhere, people shouting cues and the photographers telling us where to put our body parts but… The man still looked good as hell. 

Like, I couldn’t think properly. How was I ever going to do my job with him here? Chris Evans was going to ruin my career before it really even hit off.

We had done our individual shoots already, earlier this morning. It had been easier then, alone in the black silk sheets where I wasn’t rolling around with him acting like we were having sex. He apparently also had the contract clause where he would be wearing underwear, probably because his celebrity dick was too precious to be exposed to us lesser people.

We laid on our sides, my back to his chest. We were covered in black sheets, positioned to expose my upper chest, shoulders and legs but only Chris’ chest. I was putting all my weight on my elbow, resting my head in my hand. Chris was positioned slightly higher than me, his head laying on the crook of my neck. We faced the camera, giving smoldering and seductive looks.

“You good with this?” Chris murmured in my ear.

His breath was so warm and it tickled me slightly. My breath hitched as his hand brushed up my hip, fingers running up the bare flesh. It took me a moment to realize what he was asking permission for and when I nodded, he gripped my hip confidently. His other hand slowly snaked up behind my neck, gently grabbing a fist full of my hair. 

I tried to remind myself that this was the position we were being told to be in repeatedly. However, it wasn’t working. We had been told to talk to each other through this but I honestly probably would’ve preferred silence from him. His voice was attractive enough and given the circumstances, I didn’t need to be any more attracted to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied, swallowing the lump in my throat. Do not get awkward, Simran. Please, for the love of all that is holy. Just be cool. 

“You’re really fucking warm, like a heater,” Chris chuckled in my ear, acting as though we were talking about the goddamn weather.

What the fuck? I was jealous of how casual he could be about this. He had done it before and he probably had seen hundreds (Okay, okay, I didn’t know the exact number and probably didn’t want to) of women naked so he didn’t care. 

I cleared my throat before answering. “Thanks?”

“It’s a compliment, it’s cool!”

“Uh-huh,” I replied distractedly as his thumb caressed my hip bone. I tried not to let it get to me, I was assuming he was trying to give a calming touch but it backfired, as it always did when he tried to relax me.

“You’re really stiff,” Chris commented, his nose brushing the tip of my ear. I nearly moaned but contained myself. I kept eye contact with the cameras as they shot repeatedly. 

“This is the first time I’ve done a basically naked photoshoot,” I said, biting my lip slightly. “It’s just weird, I guess.”

“Eh, you’re doing good, kid,” Chris said and I could feel the rumble from his chest. I instinctively leaned back into him and heard the photographer say to stay in that position. I froze, my head titled back slightly as well with my lips parted. 

“Chris, put your lips on her exposed neck,” the other photographer said. Chris shifted a bit to do and I wanted to die. This was like a wet dream, but also, torture. More like torture. 

The next position was me straddling him, easily the worst and best position we were put in. I felt him slightly hard underneath me but thought nothing of it. Sexual stimulus is just that, it was by no means an indicator that he was attracted to me. 

“You okay down there?” I giggled, placing my hands on his chest and effectively shielding my breasts from the camera with my upper arms. He placed his hands on my hips and rolled his eyes with a smile.

I was glad we were getting more and more comfortable, even in positions like this. 

——————

The next day was our last day. It was sad to think about so I didn’t really dwell on it.

“Sit up straight, both of you,” we were told, “Simran, get yourself nestled in his legs, just like that, yeah.” We moved and tried to get comfortable as the photographers went on. Chris guided me in between his legs and pressed my back against his chest. It felt… Nice. Not awkward at all.

“Okay and now Chris, put your arms around her breasts possessively,” shit, shit, shit, “No wait, actually, just hold them and make sure to cover the nipples. The less photoshop we need to use on useless shit, the better.” 

Fuck. Holy hell. There were worse positions than this that we had already done, I knew, but we both still paused.

Chris hesitantly asked in my ear, “You good?” I was glad he couldn’t see my embarrassed face at the moment.

I nodded, because I had agreed to this and I couldn’t complain now anyway, and he snaked his arms underneath mine. His large hands found their way to my chest with ease and I stilled, trying to seem like I wasn’t nervous as fuck. 

I felt comfortable in his hands, at least. Good thing the guy was gentle, right? He wasn’t awkwardly manhandling my boobs, aka the only way I’d had them treated over the years. Okay, so my previous sexual encounters were not great, I had to admit.

“You, Simran, push all your hair to your right and then place your hands over his.” I did as instructed, thinking to myself that this job was both a blessing and a curse. “Chris, kiss her wherever. Just switch it up.”

I weighed the current situation with the best possible focus I could have.

Pros: 1) Chris Evans was holding my fucking boobs in his hands like they were rare gems. 2) He knew exactly where to kiss my neck. 3) He was a gentle giant. 

Cons: 1) I wanted to fuck the ever-living hell out of him. 2) I was friends with the guy so I didn’t need these sexual thoughts in my mind. 

Well, the pros outweighed the cons. I guess I needed to enjoy this moment for a while. 

“What size are you? 32D?” his voice was in my ear before he pressed his lips to it.

So much for enjoying the moment.

“Christopher,” I chided, trying to keep my cool. My mortification needed to go by unnoticed. But seriously? He just guessed my fucking bra size by cupping my boobs? How many boobs had he cupped and of how many different fucking sizes? This guy was going to be the cause of my death.

“I’m right, huh?” He chuckled as his warm lips caressed my shoulder. I shrugged in response, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he was right. Was this even appropriate for friends? Probably not for friends like him, friends that I wanted to have sex with.

“Give us an innocent, sultry look, Simran,” the photographer said. I jut out my bottom lip slightly as I looked at the camera, trying to pout sexily. I didn’t really know what constituted a sultry look but hopefully that was it. “Okay, now look like you guys have just been caught doing dirty things.” 

I couldn’t see Chris’ face this whole time but I bet he was doing a hell of a lot better than me. What with more experience and his face already sexy anyway. 

“Come on, tell me if I guessed right,” Chris egged on, his hands pushing slightly up against my breasts before relaxing again. My hands tightened on his afterwards. It still felt like my breasts were being held up by clouds, so that was a plus. 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, I knew the photographers probably wouldn’t care for that look. “Exactly how many breasts have you held, Christopher?”

“Don’t ask a question in response to my own question.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t ask another one! Jesus!”

“Tell me!”

“Tell me first, pleeeeeaaaaaase,” Chris teased in my ear. I nodded my head slightly. “Wait, is that a yes you’ll tell me or a yes to me being right?”

I snickered but then went back to my smoldering face at the camera. “You decide.”

“I’m deciding I’m right.”

“Whatever you say, Evans, whatever you say.”

“Oh come on, no fair,” Chris whined, his nose running down the side of my neck. I gulped and he slowly exhaled. I could feel his lips curl into a smile as he murmured into my ear, “You gotta gimme a straight answer.”

“Duh, of course you’re right,” I replied, sighing and loosening up a bit. The conversation was helping even if it was about my bra size. “You are such a fuckboy.”

“What?!” 

“You know, a guy who just thinks about sex. I mean, asking about a girl’s bra size,” I taunted back, resisting the urge to laugh at his surprised tone. “Not a gentleman at all.”

“I’ll have you know I’m completely a gentleman,” Chris said, his voice lacking humor. His lips found their way in a spot behind my ear and I shivered. “I promise.”

“Aw, how cute,” I teased, hoping to bring back the banter. I felt Chris laugh slightly and I relaxed again. I smirked at the flashing camera, “Adorable.”

“I know I am,” he replied. “Now stop giving me so much shit.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe.”


	10. Chapter Ten

I wasn't fucking going. 

I had texted Chris an hour ago asking him what I should wear tonight and he still hadn’t replied. I needed an answer, I couldn’t very well show up in jeans and sneakers if everyone else was wearing dresses and skirts or vice versa. I probably should’ve given him more time or asked him in advance like a smart person… But it was too late to focus on that now. 

I wanted to look good tonight and if I didn’t have a guarantee that I would, then what was even the point of coming? Not that I had anyone to impress, I just liked looking good. Or, at least, that’s what I told myself. 

“Marc, he hasn’t texted me back yet!” I complained as I peered into my closet, trying to decide on something. “I’m not going if I don’t know what to wear.”

I was bringing Marc along with me because if I got drunk (which I would), I’d need someone to take me home and ensure I didn’t make too much of a fool out of myself. I had asked Chris if it was okay to bring someone and he had just said “The more, the merrier!” excitedly. I also needed Marc around to make sure I didn’t try to drunk-flirt with Chris.

Marc didn’t seem so miffed about not knowing what to wear, probably because he could dress himself for any situation. He just wore black dress shoes, black dress pants and a terra-cotta orange dress shirt with rolled up sleeves. Every guy looked good with rolled up sleeves. 

“So? The man is probably busy,” Marc replied, flipping through my Vogue magazine that I hadn’t even had a chance to look at. He always made himself at home— right now he was laying on my freshly made bed, his head slightly propped up on my headboard. His shoes were probably ruining my comforter and I gave him a look.

“Get your shoes off my bed,” I said, pointing my finger at his feet. “Get some manners, dude!”

Marc chortled but did as told, shaking his head. “You are completely on edge.” He closed the magazine and set it on the nightstand before getting up to stand next to me. “You totally need to fuck him if you get the chance. Now, let’s see if I can help you.”

I didn’t say anything in response to the first part of his statement, but I rolled my eyes. We both looked at the closet for a couple of moments, my hands on my hips as I scattered my brain to see outfit ideas. Those black, ripped jeans would look good with my peplum shirt but what if it was more of a dressy place?

“I’m just worried, I hate not looking good,” I supplied, wringing my wrists nervously. 

“Not looking good for Chris,” Marc winked as he took out a plum leather pencil skirt and looked at me questioningly. It was a restricting piece of clothing, despite being so cute.

I shook my head. “I need to be able to move.” He put it back and looked for the next outfit idea. I sighed, “It’s not about Chris. I wasn’t even thinking of him, to be honest.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Marc laughed. He grabbed the flowy nude blouse I had worn to my Gucci Guilty interview and I shook my head again, making Marc sigh. 

“I have another idea.” He took out his phone from his jean pocket. “What’s the name of the club?”

“It’s just called Red,” I shrugged as I eyed a floral romper. It would look cute with some boots and a jean jacket. But rompers were hard to pee in, so that outfit was out. 

“I’ll just look it up and see if there’s a website or description of it,” he said as he typed. “It’ll probably help.”

“Marc, you fucking genius,” I shook my head, giggling. “I’m such a dumbass, why didn’t I think of that?”

Marc smirked and ran a hand over his perfectly styled brown hair. I always told him that when he did his hair, he looked like fucking Edward Cullen. He didn’t take kindly to that but it was true! He spent way too long trying to make his hair look effortless. It was honestly hilarious.

“You are a dumbass, Sim,” he agreed. “Speaking of being a dumbass, tell me why you haven’t even tried to fuck Chris Evans yet.”

“Dude,” I groaned, taking my own phone out of my pocket. I saw a notification from Chris and quickly shut up. “Wait, hold on, he replied.”

Marc leaned over me as I opened the message. 

6:41 PM Capsicle:

It’s hard to explain, not too casual or too dressy. More dressy than casual, I think

I scoffed. “Thanks a lot, Chris. You answered nothing!” before my phone showed another notification. 

6:41 PM Capsicle:

Sorry, that’s probably pretty vague. Show me what you had in mind and I can let you know if it works? :)

Marc gasped before taking the phone out of my hand. “Oh my God, he wants the V so bad.” He scrolled up over our past messages and started to read.

“Wants the V?” I repeated, worrying my bottom lip and looking up at Marc. My eyes were wide with confusion. “What gave you that idea?”

“He wants you to send him a picture, Simran,” Marc clarified, slowly but I didn’t like his tone. I knew what Chris had asked but I didn’t know why Marc thought Chris had the slightest of interest in me. 

“So?! Why are you acting like I’m dumb?” 

“Because you are!” Marc laughed, very amused by the situation. I was not, however. “You told me he wasn’t interested in you at all.”

“He isn’t!” I insisted, throwing my arms up in frustration.

“Simran, honey,” Marc shook his head, holding the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. Drama queen, he just did it for effect. He wasn’t annoyed with me at all, he thought it was hilarious. “He wants to fuck you just as much as you want to fuck him. Scratch that, it seems like he wants to do more than just fuck you.”

“Um?”

“He likes you,” Marc said in the same tone as before, slowly and like I was an idiot. I wrinkled my nose and looked at him with confusion. So maybe I was an idiot. He still needed to explain. “Seriously. This guy asks about the girls everyday. He replies as fast as he can and always apologizes if he doesn’t. He flirts but not too much. Hell, you guys played twenty questions and he didn’t even ask anything sexual!”

“He’s 34, not 16,” I countered, crossing my arms over my chest. “Maybe this is just how friends act! Adult friends! I’m friends with adults, Marc!”

“I’m an adult! You’re an adult! All your friends are adults, Sim,” Marc smirked at me.

“Shut up. Either way, Chris doesn’t like me.”

“No, hon, Chris would not have asked for a picture if he didn’t like you.”

“Okay so, Chris is just naturally a flirt,” I disagreed. “I’ve seen him talk the same way to his stylist and his crew. Probably just the way he does.”

“Mhm, whatever you say,” Marc didn’t seem very convinced, tossing my phone on the bed before throwing himself on it as well. He resumed his old position and brought the Vogue magazine back up to his face. His voice was teasing as he said, “Try on whatever you had in mind and send a picture to Mr. Evans.”

I rolled my eyes, uncrossing the arms over my chest. I turned back to eye the closet and after a few minutes, I finally took out two different outfits. “Okay, I have two in mind. Should I send two pictures?” 

“Do it,” Marc giggled behind the magazine. “You’re gonna make that man so happy.”

I quickly changed, throwing a glance at the time. I took both pictures, leaving my face out of them and sent them to Chris. 

“Why am I nervous?” I asked, biting my lip even harder as I waited for Chris to reply. 

I was in my fucking underwear, it was almost 7 o'clock and I hadn’t even done my makeup yet. 

At least I had decided I had done my hair in advance. I had french braided it before bed the night before and I hadn’t taken out the braids just yet. When I would, my hair would be in pretty waves. It was my favorite, easy hairstyle. 

But that was the only thing that had saved time, I had less than an hour before we had to leave. How was I going to get ready when I was this nervous? And why the fuck was I this nervous?

“Stop worrying about the time,” Marc said, because apparently he could read my fucking mind. “You’re nervous because you want to fuck Chris Evans. Now that I’ve told you that he wants to fuck you too, you’re gonna make it all complicated in your head.”

“He doesn’t though,” I disagreed, now firmly. Chris didn’t want to fuck me, he wanted to be friends and I didn’t want to fuck that up. So I told Marc exactly that. 

He, again, didn’t seem very convinced. I elected to ignore him because Chris had replied. 

6:54 PM Capsicle:

Wow you look great either way

6:54 PM Capsicle:

I like the purple dress A LOT though.

I quickly replied with a “Thank you :) See you soon” trying to hide the small smile on my face. Marc noticed, obviously. 

“What did he say?” he asked in a singsong voice.

“He said I looked great either way but to go with the purple dress.”

“That’s cause your boobs look great in it.”

“That is not the reason!”

“Sim, baby,” Marc looked up from the magazine. I was putting on the purple dress and I looked back at his serious face. “Just don’t overthink it, okay?”

I nodded for a moment, but I knew I wouldn’t forget it. Marc probably wouldn’t have dropped it if I wasn’t near biting my lip off. Chris wouldn’t want to fuck me and I shouldn’t be wanting to fuck a friend. I wasn’t his type anyway, not if his previous girlfriends and hookups were any indication. 

“Marc, you suck,” I pouted, as I put on my earrings in the mirror. He smirked but his eyes went back to the magazine. I bit my lip as I thought about how tonight was probably the last Chris might want to do with me. Apart from the press interviews and general advertising for Gucci, I doubt we would be seeing each other. “Don’t you dare leave me tonight.”

“Girl, I won’t,” Marc rolled his eyes but kept on reading. His smirk stayed in place as he added, “Unless I find someone hot.”

“You will not get laid tonight because I will not be getting laid tonight either,” I warned, pushing his feet off the bed as I sat to strap on my heels. 

Marc scoffed from behind the magazine. “If you don’t fuck Chris, then I will.”

“Shut up,” I laughed.

“The boy’s probably bi,” Marc teased. “You know the way he talks about Chris Hemsworth.”

“You are not going to get any tonight,” I said surely, with a laugh. “I’m gonna be your own personal cockblock.”

“Not unless I set you up with someone. If not Chris, then some other lucky guy,” Marc sang from behind the magazine. “Char has the girls at her house and she gave me permission to find you someone tonight.”

“I didn’t give permission though!” I argued as I went to my desk to find my makeup bag. Where the fuck did I put it? And why the fuck was Marc so insistent on me getting fucked tonight?

Marc cackled, “You really need to get laid.”

“No I don’t,” I frowned as I finally found the bag. I sat down and pulled out my foundation. “Oh shit, I’m worried about getting makeup on my dress.”

“Just be extra careful,” Marc said before adding, “You really do need to get laid though.”

“You keep saying that! But what good has getting laid done for me?” I inquired, looking at his hidden face in the mirror. He pulled down the magazine to look me in the eyes before glancing back down. “That’s right.”

“We’ll find someone who can actually give you the big ‘O’ tonight, I bet,” Marc reassured me. But I knew he was unsure. I was convinced something was wrong with me when I had realized no one could make me orgasm but myself. After a few years, I realized it just wasn’t meant to be with anyone but my own fingers.

“Marc, don’t be so obsessed with my sex life,” I poked fun at him. “Fuckin’ weirdo.”

“Shut up, Sim. Someone has to make sure you’re getting a healthy dose of sex.”

“Well, I’m not,” I snorted. “Obviously.”

“Your four year dry spell is going to be gone by tonight,” Marc sang, finally putting away the magazine and pulling out his wallet. I gave him a confused look as I brushed on my face powder. “I’m going be your fairy godmother and get you some glass slippers.”

“And by glass slippers, you’re giving me condoms, aren’t you?” 

“You know it, baby.”

“Your metaphors are so strange.” 

“I’m fuckin’ clever, that’s all.”

“Yeah, clever, that’s what I’ll call it,” I made a fishy face in the mirror to contour my cheekbones. 

The thing about Marc was that he was all promises. He almost always left me to get drunk on my own and find his own guy. It was fine with me, I wasn’t complaining. This little banter about finding a guy was just that — banter. 

“Hurry up with your makeup, you got ten minutes before I leave without you,” Marc chuckled, getting up from my bed. He straightened his clothes, making sure they didn’t get wrinkled, before walking over to where I was sitting.

I scowled at him when he tugged on my braid. By this time, I was doing my eyebrows with intense concentration. “I’m doing my ‘brows, asshole. If they’re fucked up, it’ll be your fault.”

Marc giggled before slamming a few condoms down on my desk. I stopped doing my makeup long enough to look up at him and roll my eyes. He touched up his hair in the mirror, “What, Sim, you wanted flavored ones?”

“Put them in your pocket, I don’t have any place to put it and I don’t wanna bring a purse.” I laughed with him as he did as I told. “Can I do my makeup in peace now?” Marc stood there for a moment, checking himself out in the mirror before leaving my room. “Fuckin’ finally.”

“I heard that!” his muffled voice came through my door.

——————

The party was already in full swing when Marc and I arrived. I made a beeline for the bar with Marc in tow and said a few hi’s on the way to some crew members I had previously met. 

“Can I have a Kahlua mudslide, please?” I asked the bartender as I took a seat at the end. Marc stood next to me and scoffed at my drink of choice. “What?”

“That’s not a real drink,” Marc deadpanned before turning to the man. “Can I have a mojito, please?”

I snorted. “A mojito isn’t much better!”

“It tastes good though,” Marc retorted, his eyes looking around as he scanned the area. His body was angled so that he could see everyone around us but also speak to me. “Besides, if Pierce Brosnan can order one of these and look sharp as hell, so can I.”

“Mudslides are like coffee flavored ice cream,” I argued. “Besides, I’m not getting blackout drunk just yet.”

“Oh, young one,” Marc sighed. “You have much to learn.”

“Shut up, you’re only like five years older than me.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. You like guys at least a decade older than you,” Marc wiggled his eyebrows at me before looking around again.

“Bitch, don’t go there,” I pointed my finger into his chest jokingly. He laughed before looking behind me. “What?”

“You’ve been saying that a lot today,” Marc said before whispering, “I just saw him, he’s talking to someone right now but he keeps looking over here.”

Chris. He was talking about Chris. Who else could he be fucking talking about? Obviously. I froze for a moment before relaxing again. Calm the fuck down, Simran. You two are friends.

The bartender brought our drinks around this time. We thanked him and I looked back at Marc again, this time shifting myself to be able to see the people around us. “You think he’s going to come say hi?” 

Marc opened his mouth to speak but then shut it, choosing to nod furiously instead. I looked to where his eyes had gone and saw Chris making his way through a crowd of people, stopping to say hi politely to most of them. Shit. 

I took a sip of my drink as I tried to calm down. Even the drink’s goodness didn’t do much to help the nerves. I met his eyes and smiled at him.

“Hey Simran,” Chris smiled back at me, albeit tensely, as he made his way to stand in front of me.

Chris should be illegal. He looked so good. Too good, really. He was wearing black slacks with a dark blue dress shirt and a black sport coat. His hair was slicked back and his beard was perfectly trimmed, nothing short of what I expected from him. 

“Hey,” I greeted him with a wave, getting out of my seat quickly and clumsily. The fucking alcohol hadn’t even set in yet. I mentally slapped myself over the head. I probably looked like an idiot. 

Chris glanced over at Marc and tensed up even more. I gestured to him and awkwardly introduced them, “This is Marc!”

“Hey man,” Chris said in an uncharacteristically stiff voice, extending his hand for a shake. “What’s up?”

“Not much, just came along so I could get laid tonight,” Marc said matter-of-factly as he shook hands with him. Marc winked at me and I laughed but Chris tensed even more, a tight smile on his face. 

“So you two are—“

“Hey Chris, I haven’t seen you in forever,” A man interrupted whatever Chris was saying as he clapped a hand on his back. “You’re looking great!”

“Thanks man, where’s Brad and Louis?” Chris asked curiously, tearing his eyes away from us. 

“Over there,” the man pointed to an obscure location in the opposite end of the bar, wrapping his other arm around Chris’s shoulders. “Wanna say hi?”

“Hell yeah,” Chris said with a genuine smile before glancing back at me hesitantly. “I’ll see you guys later tonight?”

“Yeah sure,” I said, clearing my throat awkwardly. Marc nodded out of the corner of my eye. “Have fun!” I called but Chris was already gone. 

The whole situation didn’t seem right and I couldn’t get my finger on why. Marc seemed to think the same thing.

“Shit, this is not good, Sim,” Marc shook his head. “Not good at all.”

“What?”

“He thinks we’re together!” Marc hissed. 

“What?!” I repeated, my voice going up a higher pitch.

“He was tense and about to ask us before his buddy came around,” Marc groaned, running a hand over his face. I was in shock. Why was I so bad at reading people?

“You made him think I was fucking you?” I ran a hand through my waves exasperatedly. Marc scowled at me.

“Poor choice of words, okay?” Marc replied. “I’m sorry! But you need to set things straight with him.”

“Why do I have to?” I groaned, finishing my drink as I thought about how stupid this situation was. I didn’t know how I had wanted tonight to go, but this was not it at all. 

“Because,” Marc drug out the word. “I’m gonna go flirt with this guy making eyes with me over by the door.” 

He subtly shifted his head to show me a handsome man indeed making googly eyes at him. The man looked away quickly and Marc smirked at me. I panicked, “Oh God, Marc you said you wouldn’t leave me.”

“I said I wouldn’t unless I found someone hot.” And with that statement, he swiftly finished his drink and left.

“Fucker!” I said to myself before turning back to the bartender. I knew begging wouldn’t help, this was the way Marc and I had always been. Time to get hammered, I guess. “Can I have a Long Island Iced Tea?”

——————

I was drunk and alone. Not how I wanted this night to be, but here I was. I didn’t know how long I had sat there, but I certainly wasn’t having fun like I had wanted to.

“Simran, hey!” Marc’s voice was in my ear and I jumped at the sound. He had found his way back to me. Not that it was hard, I had been in the same place all night. “I was looking for you everywhere!”

“Wha-Why?” I asked, confused. “I thought you left, Marc-y Marc.”

“God, you don’t call me that unless you’re trashed. You’re so trashed, aren’t you?” Marc cackled as I turned to look at him. Behind him was the googly eyes guy from before who smiled at me. He was cute, Marc picked well. “Scott and I were just leaving.”

“Ooh,” I laughed, leaning on my elbows. Good for them, they’re both gonna get laid. With each other. I giggled harder at my inner thoughts as I said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Marc asked as he turned to leave. He asked out of politeness more than anything and I wasn’t one to ruin his night by telling him he had to stay. 

“Of course!” I tried to brave a smile on my face. It wasn’t bad. I’d be fine, I could catch a cab and I had wanted to leave soon anyway. “You two kids have fun now!”

Marc took Scott’s hand and left. Once they were out of sight, I winced at how stupid I had sounded. I sighed and talked to myself, since I was the only one I had at the moment.

“Why did I think I was gonna have fun tonight?” I asked myself as I gulped down another drink. “Why do you do this to yourself, Simran? You fuckin’ dumbass.”

I put my head down on the bar counter and closed my eyes. I probably knocked out for a few minutes, not gonna lie.

“Hey there,” I heard a voice next to me. I lifted my head and saw Chris sitting there with a concerned look on his face. He looked so cute with his furrowed eyebrows and frown. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just fucking drunk,” I laughed giddily. “Why aren't you drunk?” 

“I guess I just don’t like getting blackout drunk as much anymore,” Chris shrugged, his face still showing a worried look. He seemed more laid-back than usual. Not in a bad way, but it seemed like parties were in his nature. He cracked a smile, “At least, not as drunk as you right now.”

“You should,” I laughed as I sipped on my drink. “It’s so fucking fun.”

“Nah, I think I’ve grown past that age,” Chris chuckled. He finished the beer in his hands, “I like to have a little control over my actions.”

“I don’t. It’s so much easier to lose my inhibitions!” I replied, shaking my head. I looked back at him and smirked. “It’s probably just because you’re an old man.” I teased, running a hand through my hair. “How old are you now? Like 50?”

“I am not,” Chris laughed before his voice became serious again. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Marc is most certainly not my boyfriend,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the idea. “Look at you, Mr. Evans, making assumptions.”

“Oh,” Chris’ eyebrows rose. He tried to hide a grin but failed. So cute. “Okay.”

“Now, about you getting blackout drunk,” I teased, offering him my glass. “Want some?”

“Simran, is this you challenging me?” he asked, his eyebrows wiggling. “Because I never back down from challenges. I’m competitive like that.”

“Bro, I’m a Leo, I know all about competitiveness,” I giggled as he took the glass from my hand and downed the rest of it. “What’s the bet?”

“Oh, so we’re betting now?” Chris asked, half-curious and half-challenging. 

I thought about it for a moment before shaking my head and laughing, “Nah, nevermind. I’m a little scared about what you’d bet, Christopher.”

“No need to be scared,” Chris smirked, rubbing a hand on his face and ruffling his beard. He looked at me almost shyly and said, “I never got to tell you that you look great, by the way. I love that color on you.”

I bit my lip and softly said, “Thank you.”

It was quiet for a moment before he glanced over at the dance floor crowded with sweaty bodies and asked, “Wanna dance?”

“Oh no, no, no,” I giggled. “I can’t dance. Especially not in these heels!”

“C’mon. Why’d you wear heels to the club then?!” 

“Who doesn’t wear heels to clubs?” I countered, a smile fighting to make it’s way on my face. Chris ordered another beer with a smile.

“Time to get drunk, Christopher?” I asked, playing with a piece of my hair. I was teasing but if he said yes, who was I to stop him?

“If I get kinda drunk, can we dance?” He asked, looking at me through his eyelashes. Chris probably had experience convincing many women to do what he wanted with that look and I was no different. 

“Yes, but only, like, one song,” I sighed defeatedly. 

He smiled victoriously. “Time to get drunk then, Simran.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to Simran’s outfit - http://www.polyvore.com/simrans_wrap_party_outfit/set?id=179851174#fans


	11. Chapter Eleven

“Dude,” I exhaled sharply into the night.

Chris and I had snuck out the back of the club, into an alleyway near the parking lot. He claimed we needed some fresh air after dancing for way more than just the one song we had previously agreed on.

Dancing for me was just jumping around, which was why I got so tired. I had thought Chris was going to do the same as me, but I was mistaken. He had some fucking moves. The man could move his hips. Apparently, he also knew how to tap dance. When he got enough drinks in him and when I begged enough, he did the tap dancing without the tap shoes. It was hilarious.

Chris had given me his sport coat as we got out into the alley, claiming he didn’t want me dying on him. I laughed because he knew I couldn’t handle any type of cold weather. I was “a big baby like that” he had said.

Chris had just pointed out the moon moments ago and said it looked beautiful. I loved nighttime, so naturally I agreed with him. I loved the moon and the stars but here in LA, you never fucking saw stars.

He took his eyes off the shining moon and looked at me, waiting for me to speak again. His eyes were wide and expectant. I hadn’t had any plans to continue but I did anyway, “I’m so fucking wasted.”

He giggled, his face red from heat and intoxication. It wasn’t that funny but I laughed with him. He leaned his back against the wall of the alley and continued laughing, only taking short breaths to agree, “You are.”

Chris crossed his arms and I could see his muscles bulging, teasing me. He’d already rolled up his shirt sleeves and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt back when we had been dancing. I remembered him smirking at me when he did, with that one dreaded eyebrow raised.

It was almost as though Chris knew what effect he had on me. Come to think of it, he probably did. He had to have, considering he had the same effect on many other men and women.

“You should’ve been drunk by now,” I pouted, crossing my own arms over my chest as I leaned my shoulder on the wall for support next to him. My legs were killing me but I’m sure they looked great in these heels regardless. Beauty truly is pain.

“I am,” Chris laughed again, a smile permanently on his face. “Just not as bad as you. You— you’re a lightweight and you don’t know your limit.”

I rolled up the way-too-long sleeves of Chris’ sport coat, it looked hilariously bad on me and not at all sexy. The ill-fitting coat reached my mid-thigh and was essentially a dress on me. I was sure I looked like a mess. Especially after dancing on that sweaty dance floor. It was unfair for Chris to still look good.

“Am not, I am well aware of my limit,” I disagreed, as I leaned in closer to him. “Besides, three long island iced teas is that limit.”

“You’re only supposed to have one, maybe two,” Chris replied in disbelief, shaking his head. “I’m surprised you’re still standing. Surprised you’re still alive, actually.”

I don’t think Chris could’ve guessed this but when I got drunk, I got snuggly. Regardless of who I was with, I was just an intoxicated cuddler. I had no fucking shame. I could cuddle anyone.

I leaned in even closer to him, resting my head on his abdomen. He uncrossed his arms, keeping them raised on his sides. Chris’ voice sounded worried as he asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m jus-just gonna stand here for a bit,” I mumbled, nuzzling into his stomach and wrapping my arms around his narrow waist. He wrapped his arms around me hesitantly and I snuggled in more. “Mm. I’m tired.”

“How did you not fall down in those heels?” Chris asked, swaying us back and forth a bit. He rubbed my back soothingly and I eased into his body. It felt warm and inviting and right.

“I’m short, I use heels all the time,” I yawned into his chest. I wondered to myself what time it was before asking absently, “Where’s my phone?” As if Chris knew.

“I don’t know, you didn’t have a purse all night,” Chris shrugged. He stopped rubbing my back and the calm feeling that had been over me was gone in an instant. I froze for a moment as I realized where I had kept all my belongings. Oh no.

“Shit,” I groaned into his chest. “Fucking hell. Goddamn it.”

“What? What happened?” Chris’ concerned tone cut into my cursing. 

“Fuck,” I exhaled once more. “Marc has my phone and my wallet and my keys.” Chris stiffened for a moment before shaking in laughter. He kept his arms around me as he kept laughing and I frowned. I rested my chin on his shaking chest and looked up at him with a pout. “This is so not funny.”

“Hold up,” he was still laughing. It wasn’t that funny. “Why did you give him all your stuff?!”

“You jerk!” I tried to be mad. I really did. But he was so cute when he laughed.

“Seriously?!”

“I fucking hate purses,” I admitted, with a whine.

“So you just gave him your shit? Why didn’t you wear pants with pockets?”

“Have you seen women’s clothing, Christopher?!” I exclaimed. “Men hit the jackpot with that shit. They have deep ass fucking pockets. It’s like you guys have Mary Poppins’ bag sewn in on each thigh and I’m lucky to get lint into my damn jean pockets.”

This made Chris laugh hysterically and I even cracked a smile.

“Where did Marc go?” Chris asked when his laughter finally died down.

“Went home with some guy,” I mumbled, shrugging my shoulders as best as I could in this position. He was wrapped pretty tight around me. Not that I was complaining. Far from it. “Think his name was Scott.”

Chris made a weird face. “Well, what did he look like?”

“I don’t remember,” I said. “He was handsome. Tall.”

“Everyone’s tall to you, Simran,” Chris said, half-jokingly and half-exasperatedly. “What else?”

“Pretty looking eyes,” I nodded to myself as I recalled how the man looked. “He had blondish hair. He was actually really cute, ya know. Good on Marc.”

“Okay, this isn’t working,” Chris sighed, unwrapping his arms from me.

I pouted up at him from the lack of contact as he reached into his pocket for his phone. He scrolled through photos before shoving the phone in my face. A picture of Chris at Christmas with another man glowed on the screen. I recognized the man to be the Scott I was talking about. The Scott that Marc went home with.

“Aww,” I cooed. “Is that your brother? He’s so adorable. You guys are so precious.”

“Is that who you’re talking about?”

“Yeah, good on your brother too, then,” I giggled. He put his phone away, shaking his head. I thought of how Marc said Scott had given him googly eyes and burst into laughter, “That’s him. That’s Googly Eyes McGee right there.”

“What are you talking about?”

I started trying to answer but only laughs came out. I don’t know why I thought it was so funny, but it was. It just was.

“You know what? Nevermind,” Chris sighed, a little exasperated laugh escaping his throat. “You’re way too drunk to see what’s really happening.”

“I know what’s happening! Marc and Scott, sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I—“

“Okay, so you do know what’s going on,” Chris interrupted, wrapping his arms around me once again. I quieted immediately as I wrapped my arms around him again. Usually his touches made me more nervous but with his arms around me right now, I couldn’t help but feel calm.

“But I don’t care,” I whined into the warmth of his stomach. “I just wanna go hooooome.”

“Well,” Chris laughed. “They’re probably at my place. Scott takes guys there, he hates going to other people’s places. Wanna go there?”

“No,” I exclaimed, snapping my head up to look at him with wide eyes. “What if we catch them doing it? That’d be so awkward!”

“Well, that’s true,” Chris weighed the options. “There’s no way into your house?”

“Oh no, I hide a spare key for my apartment,” I disagreed, biting my lip. “But how am I gonna get there with no car?”

“I can get us a car,” Chris reasoned, shaking me back and forth with a huge smile. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

“You sure?” I asked, keeping my head on his chest. I don’t know if it was because I was drunk or because he smelled so good and felt so warm, but damn Chris was comfortable. “I could fall asleep right here. Your body is a pillow, Evans.”

“My personal trainer and constant body aches from working out would beg to differ,” Chris chuckled. He leaned his head down and softly asked, “Are you too drunk to remember your address?”

“No,” I pouted, looking up at him through my eyelashes. “Don’t be stupid, Christopher.”

“You’re right,” he gasped for dramatic effect, swaying me side to side in his arms. “I am so sorry, Ms. Grover.”

“Hey, you remember my last name,” I mumbled, not knowing why I really mentioned that. I always picked weird things to zero in on and obsess over. “I didn’t think you’d know it.”

“Of course I do, I remember everything about you,” Chris murmured as he stroked my back gently. “That doesn’t sound creepy, does it? It sounds creepy.”

“It didn’t sound creepy till you said it did,” I snickered.

He mimicked me in a high pitch voice. We laughed together for a moment before he pulled out his phone again. “I’m gonna call us a car.”

I tuned out the words after that, just feeling the vibrations of his body as he spoke them. I just stood there, being held by him. Even after he stopped talking and we stood in silence together, I just felt peaceful. Chris’ steady heartbeat made me believe he felt the same way.

Soon, I saw headlights out of the corner of my eye and Chris nudged me, telling me we were all set to go.

Chris gestured for me to get in as he spoke to the driver outside. I repeated my address to him and he told the driver. Buckling in my seatbelt, I didn’t realize how drunk I still was until I sat back in the vehicle. Leaning my head against the window, I started singing to myself.

“Driver, roll up the partition please,” I sang off-key. The driver glanced back at me and rolled his eyes. “I don’t need you seeing Yonce on her knees!”

Chris slid in and sent me an amused look as I portrayed my lack of musical talent. “Are you singing Beyonce?”

“He Monica Lewinsky’d all on my gown! Ooh now daddy, daddy didn’t bring the towel!” I went on singing to myself, pausing just to say “Duh!”

“What for?”

“We’re in the back of a car, it’s fitting,” I shrugged, before going on. My logic was not sound but who cared? Chris was getting a kick out of it. The driver, however, gave me a look as he started the car. I was too drunk to think it was anything but hilarious. I looked over at a laughing Chris.

“Yeah, but there’s no partition in here,” Chris said, a pleased lilt in his voice.

Ignoring him, I went on singing like it was my fucking concert, “Handprints and footprints on my glass, handprints and good grips all on my ass! Private show with the music blastin’! HE LIKES TO CALL ME PEACHES WHEN WE GET THIS NASTY!”

“You’re skipping a few lyrics there,” Chris added, laughing even harder. He threw his head back with a hand on his chest and the other grasping my knee. Clearly I was amusing him.

“I’ll have you know that I know the song word for word when I’m sober. Even the French part. And I don’t even know French,” I informed him breathlessly. I moved my head away from the window and slid closer to him. Chris reached his arm around me and allowed me to snuggle into his side. 

I didn’t notice it before but this was becoming adorable. Chris would accommodate to my positions with no complaints. He would just allow room for me, he would open his arms and wait for me to settle in next to him. It had just started happening tonight but I wanted it to happen more and more. In fact, I wanted this all the time.

“I believe you,” he nodded, a smile on his face. “You’re a woman of many talents.”

“I can’t fucking sing, Christopher,” I snorted as I rested my head on his chest. “So… You listen to Beyonce?”

“Everyone listens to some Beyonce every once in a while,” he shrugged.

“That’s true, Evans,” I nodded to myself.

It was true. Even if you didn’t like Beyonce, you still knew that song. And if you didn’t, you needed to go on Youtube and look it up. Chris was a classic rock and old school rap kind of guy but even he knew Beyonce. Everyone could bond over some Beyonce.

Don’t know why I focused in on that, but I did. I always focused on bullshit. It was comforting to know Chris and I had something in common other than being actors and loving Disney and dogs. Music had always been my favorite unifier, so maybe Beyonce would be ours.

Okay, so. I still was really drunk. Beyonce probably wasn’t going to bring us together.

I closed my eyes and leaned into him, clutching his coat around me like a warm blanket. I inhaled his scent as discreetly as possible. All these sensations were heavenly and I drifted for a bit. I sighed dreamily, “Tell me when we’re there.”

I knew I had fallen asleep because when I came to, I was so disoriented.

“I’m so drunk, why am I so drunk?” I whined when I opened my eyes. The flashing city lights were not helping me and I wanted the car to stop moving. 

Chris chuckled and I smiled to myself at the sound. If Chris could see the shit-eating grin on my face, he’d worry I was going crazy. “It’s okay, you’re fine. You’re cute when you’re drunk.”

“You’re cute when I’m drunk,” I mumbled, trying to say he was cute when he was drunk too but fucking up my words.

“I’m not cute when you’re not drunk?”

“You’re always cute,” I disagreed, my eyes closing on their own. “Always so cute. Like a puppy.”

“That’s new,” Chris seemed surprised and intrigued. “I usually get people telling me I’m sexy or hot. Like a human being.”

“Oh you’re that too. You’re all that,” I sighed, nuzzling into his warm body even more. “I don’t know how you do that. Like how? It’s unfair. You’re the perfect balance!”

“You’re all that too,” Chris murmured, his fingers combing through my hair. I made a noise from the back of my throat at his caress and he chuckled in surprise. “Did you just purr?”

“No,” I pouted, opening one of my eyes and looking up at him. He grinned and started to speak but was interrupted when we came to a stop.

“This your apartment building?” he asked for confirmation. I shifted away from him and looked out the window. Nodding at the familiar area, I turned back to see his intense gaze. I cleared my throat, unsure of how to react to the look on his face.

“You wanna come in?” I asked, awkwardly struggling to unbuckle my seatbelt.

Chris’ full lips twisted into a smirk and my heart started beating faster. He nodded and reached over, unbuckling my seatbelt for me with ease. He opened the door for me, and I got out following him, smoothing over my dress and his jacket nervously.

I wasn’t inviting him in to have sex with me. Was I? I was certainly in no position to have sex right now, being hammered meant I wouldn’t remember exactly how perfect it could be. Besides, maybe I was being presumptuous. Chris may just have wanted to come up as a friend. Probably. Most likely. 

I waited as Chris spoke to the driver again, I assumed to tell the driver to wait there until he came back down. If he came back down.

Shit. Stop psyching yourself out, Simran. Don’t over-think it.

When Chris was done, he looked at me and smiled. Intense gaze gone. My thoughts calmed down a bit and I smiled back. I hesitantly asked, “We good?”

“We’re good,” Chris affirmed, placing his hand on my back and guiding me as we walked to my apartment.

It didn’t seem awkward after that, not to me. It was just a nice quiet. A peaceful quiet that I wanted with someone for so long. My mind wasn’t even racing despite the fact that it had been just minutes ago.

When we got to my apartment door, I grabbed the spare key hidden under the plant next to the doorframe. Original, I know. Chris snorted and I tried to defend myself. “It’s easy!”

“Yeah, easy for burglars to get in,” he said, a tightness apparent in his voice. Aw, how cute. He was concerned for my safety.

“Worried about me, Evans?” I giggled as I unlocked my door.

“I’m always worried,” he admitted with a sigh, sounding more serious than normal.

He followed me in and I placed the key on the kitchen counter. I turned on the lights and removed his jacket. I placed it neatly on the arm of my couch and gestured for Chris to sit down.

“Sorry if it’s kind of a mess,” I apologized immediately, biting my lip and avoiding direct eye contact.

It wasn’t a really messy room, just Maya’s coloring books strewn all over the coffee table with some felt-tip markers left uncapped. But Chris probably lived alone, with no kids, so he didn’t have to deal with stuff like that.

He sat down at the couch and smiled up at me. Chris Evans was sitting on my couch. I cleared my throat, looking away from his general direction, “Do you want some water?”

“It’s really not messy,” he said, looking around. He folded his hands in his lap and laughed a little. “Water, yes please.”

I took off my shoes and adjusted my dress. Then I went into the kitchen, digging through around my cupboard awkwardly. He was too quiet for me to hear and when I brought back two glasses of water, the sight in front of me convinced me I was still completely hammered and hallucinating.

Chris had taken off his shoes and was kneeling at my coffee table. Barefoot and with a bright green marker in hand, he was coloring away. I left the man for two minutes. Two minutes and he was already acting six years old.

“You know,” I started, placing the glasses of water next to him on the table. “We have a lot of ones that haven’t been colored in yet.”

Chris didn’t even look up from coloring as he responded without missing a beat, “Got any Disney ones?”

“Plenty,” I replied, the humor apparent in my voice. Chris looked up at that and the shy smile on his face took my breath away. I probably had a weird look on my face and there was no way he didn’t notice.

“What?”

“Chris Evans is barefoot in my home and coloring.”

“I like coloring books!” Chris exclaimed, defending himself. I was still shaking with laughter as I knelt down beside him. “I do this with my sister’s kids all the time. It’s fun and relaxing!”

“You and Maya should be spending more quality time together,” I teased, taking a sip of the water in order to look like I was doing something other than staring at him.

“You know, you’re a hypocrite,” Chris replied, sticking his tongue out at me. He grabbed a page I had clearly done from the stacks of already colored papers and slid it towards me. “I know these perfectly colored in ones aren’t Maya’s, they’re yours!”

“Jeez, you’re like some kind of detective,” I mocked him. His smile was adorable when he looked at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I raised an eyebrow challengingly at him, “Yeah, I do them too. They are fun and relaxing.”

It was quiet for a few moments. Chris hesitated for a moment as he obviously thought of what to say. He scratched the bridge of his nose with his thumb quickly. “Do, do you think— I know it’s kind of weird and please tell me if I’m being inappropriate— but could I sleep on your couch?”

I paused mid-sip and looked him over. He immediately tried to explain himself, “It’s just, I don’t want to go back home and hear them going on at it, you know? Or deal with the awkward aftermath in the morning.”

I start giggling as I thought about how it would’ve gone in the morning with him there. Really weird, I’m sure. Rolling my eyes, I replied, “You didn’t need an explanation, I got it. Yeah, go ahead. Chris Evans is going to sleep on my pull-out sofa bed.”

“Why do you do that?” He asked curiously. I looked at him with furrowed eyebrows and a questioning look so he elaborated. “You know, you say ‘Chris Evans’ this or ‘Chris Evans’ that.”

I shrugged but he continued, “Ugh, just saying my name out-loud gets exhausting… I’m just a guy, you know.”

“You are not just a guy,” I laughed at him, but his face was growing more thoughtful. I backtracked. “Not that it’s bad. I’m just still starstruck, at times.”

“Starstruck?” He repeated, his mouth pulled down into a small grimace. 

Shit.

“Look, obviously I’m saying something wrong,” I was backtracking as quickly as possible. I didn’t know how to talk myself out of this and I didn’t really understand what was going on yet. “I’m really sorry.”

“No, it’s not that. You’re not saying anything wrong,” Chris said carefully. His eyes weren’t meeting mine anymore, he looked more focus on coloring. “I just sometimes wish I wasn’t Chris Evans. Sometimes I wish I was just Chris.”

As he admitted this, I stayed quiet, nodding to what he said even though he wasn’t seeing me. He paused his coloring but didn’t look up, “I’m sorry, I sound so fucking stupid.”

“No you don’t, you really don’t,” I disagreed, biting my lip as I thought of how to reply. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I can get that it’s a bit much sometimes.”

Chris kept a serious look on his face and cleared his throat, “Are you sure it’s okay that I sleep here?”

When I nodded with a hesitant smile, he returned it. I stood up as quickly as I could without getting dizzy. Dizzy from the conversation, dizzy from the proximity of him and his cologne or dizzy from just being drunk? I didn’t know. Probably being drunk. With a small percentage of the other two.

“I have some of Marc’s clothes that you could probably change into,” I suggested, biting my lip again as I always did. “I doubt you want to sleep in slacks.”

“You’re probably right,” Chris agreed, the smile in his voice coming back. “Thank you so much.”

“Make sure you tell your driver you’re not coming back!” I reminded him as I went to find him some comfortable clothes. Rummaging through my drawers, I found some sweatpants Marc had left over but nothing much else.

I sheepishly came back out and placed them back on the coffee table. Chris had organized it as best as he could in piles. He was still coloring but looked up when he heard me walk back into the room, “This is all I could manage.”

“Perfect, I don’t sleep with shirts on anyway,” Chris winked, seeming back to normal.

Of fucking course he didn’t.

“Well, I’m going to go wash off my makeup in the bathroom,” I said trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. “But you can use my room to change.”

I pointed to my bedroom door. He nodded and stood up, grabbing the sweatpants and sending me one last award-winning smile. When he shut the door to my room, I quickly ran to the bathroom.

Taking out my contacts and washing off my makeup took me a few minutes, but when I put on my glasses and dried my face, I could hear Chris’ footsteps creak on the wood floor. He was probably trying to creep around in my room. Jerk probably thought he was being sneaky.

I quietly snuck out of the bathroom and scurried over to my bedroom door, pressing my ear to it to hear where he was. Hearing nothing, I whipped open the door and saw no one there in the dimly lit room. I walked in trying to survey the area. Thinking to myself how weird it was that he wasn’t here, I didn’t notice his arms coming around me from behind.

Needless to say, I screamed.

Chris pressed his hand over my mouth when he realized how loud I was and started cackling behind me, “Hilarious, I fuckin’ nailed it!”

I detangled myself from his arms, turned around and smacked him on the chest. His naked chest. Fuck. I’m fine. I swear, I’m fine. I laughed breathlessly, “You asshole!”

“You’re too easy!” he laughed, his hands falling to my waist as he leaned on me for support. When Chris laughed, he threw his whole body into it. It was an interesting thing to watch and, if you were anything like me, you probably thought it was cute as all hell.

“Shut up,” I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes lit up as he saw my face.

“Aww, you look so cute with your glasses,” he said, shaking my body excitedly. My face heated up and I tried to hide my grin.

“You’re so energetic!” I rolled my eyes before pointed to my door. “Now get out, I gotta change and then I’ll help you with the sofa bed.”

Chris smiled at me — he’d been doing that a lot lately. Just smiling. Not smirking or anything, just innocent smiles.

He tugged on a piece of my hair and leaned in to whisper, “Bossy, bossy.” With one last wink, he shut the door quietly.

Okay, we were still pretty drunk. But that was cute. I think? Or was it cute because it was him? Or was it cute because I was drunk? I shook my head as if to get rid of the thoughts and looked for some shorts to change into.

I grabbed some cotton black shorts from my drawer and found a plain white T-shirt on top of my dresser. I put that on and looked at my reflection. Ew.

I looked like shit. But whatever, I wanted to sleep and Chris probably did too. He wasn’t going to give me a second glance anyway.

I heard a knock on the door and saw Chris standing there with his arms behind his back.

“Goddamn, cover yourself up,” I teased, opening the door wider to let him in. “Shameless.”

“That’s what I was coming in here for,” Chris laughed as he took a look at me. Did I look that bad? “You’re wearing my undershirt.”

“Shit, sorry,” I grabbed the bottom of my shirt as if to remove it but then dropped my hand back to my side. Jesus, my instincts were inappropriate. “I thought it was one of mine. Do you want it back?”

“Yes,” Chris said in a low voice as he sat on the edge of my bed. My ears perked up. “Right now.”

All my thoughts stopped at once. I opened my mouth to say something but all that came out was, “Um?”

He paused and looked like he was deciding on whether or not to say something. He pulled the same debating face so often with me that I could spot it in an instant. Then seconds later, his face went back to normal, and he laughed it off. “I’m just kidding, I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” I gasped. He probably had been joking the whole time and I was reading into it like an immature, obsessive, horny weirdo. “That’s okay, I think I’m still pretty drunk.”

“Me too,” Chris agreed, pouting his lips. His full, pink lips.

I wanted to kiss him again, like we did on set. I wanted to kiss him and I wanted him to kiss me. But instead, I just sat next to him on the edge of my bed. Chris’ amused voice interrupted my thoughts, “You know… It’s been a long time since I’ve spent the night at a girl’s place and we didn’t fuck.”

“Oh Christopher, if only you’d gotten a few more drinks in me,” I tried to joke. It was a bold-faced lie. He could get me in bed right now. We were technically in bed right now anyway, we’d just have to lie down, right? We could, if he wanted to.

“The night’s still young,” Chris laughed and I turned my head to look at his face. He looked away and said, “Nah, this is nice. I like this. We’re bros.”

God, I was an idiot for saying that. I grinned falsely at him and nodded in agreement. “Bros, of course.”

We looked around my room for a few moments.

“I have to admit,” Chris bumped his elbow against my side and I giggled at the ticklish feeling. His eyebrows rose but he went on, “These are not the posters I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Lots of shirtless, sweaty men.” I giggled like what he said was the most hilarious thing in the world. At that moment, it seemed like it was.

Archie had been teasing when she said those things about all the hot men on my wall. Yes, I had those actors on the wall, she wasn’t lying about that, but they were just movie posters. Just innocent movie posters covering every inch of my wall space.

What can I say? I love movies. A little too much, maybe.

“Ooh, look at this kid,” Chris pointed out the Captain America: The Winter Soldier poster I had. His smile grew bigger as he kept talking, “This guy’s trying to be all cool and tough. What a fucking meatball.”

“Shut up!” I laughed. Exhausted, I laid back down on my bed. “You’re such a dork.”

“How?” he asked, following suit and laying down next to me.

His slicked back hair was a bit ruffled but the man still looked perfect. Him being this close meant I could see his beard whiskers, his pores, and his freckles. Everything that should’ve been a flaw wasn’t. He was still perfect to me. It was disappointing to think about how his view was a lot less pretty.

“You just are,” I mumbled, moving onto my side to face him. “You are just Chris to me most of the time. It’s just that sometimes I’m surprised to remember you’re also Chris Evans. You know?”

His face became thoughtful again, but this time I knew I didn’t say something wrong because he didn’t grimace. His mouth was still set in a thin line but it was more for his pensive face as opposed to his disappointed face.

“I get that,” he whispered softly, shifting his body the way I did to see me as well. As his eyes were closing, I felt a pang of sympathy. He was probably so exhausted. Here I was, keeping him up and being annoying. “I don’t mind that at all.”

“Good, because you’re cool, bro,” I smiled tiredly, my eyes were getting heavy.

“You’re cool too, babe.”

I yawned something of a thanks before closing my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partition - Beyonce: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6s813IJphhg
> 
> Inspiration for why it’s in this chapter: http://captcevans.tumblr.com/post/97016063380/mindynovak-this-beard-is-why-partition-was


	12. Chapter Twelve

I was having a really good dream — a great dream, even. You know those dreams that just make you wake up in a good mood? This was that kind of dream. It just sucked because when I woke up, I couldn’t remember it.

Probably since I was woken up so fucking rudely. 

“JESUS, SIMRAN!”

When I heard Charlotte’s shrieking voice, I jumped about fifteen feet in the air. Well, metaphorically of course. I wasn’t able to actually move much since I had some pretty heavy arms around me. 

Wait. Whose heavy arms were around me again? 

I opened my eyes and saw the most peaceful, sleeping Chris next to me. Chris didn’t move despite Char’s loud wake up call. He mumbled something under his breath and pressed me closer to his chest. I would’ve melted if it wasn’t for present company. And my raging headache.

I'd forgotten how bad hangovers were.

Behind a shocked Char, Archie was cackling and taking pictures on her phone. Maya took the opportunity to crawl on my bed — fully clothed with shoes and all — and tried to settle herself between me and a still resting Chris. Chris groaned when Maya burrowed herself in the middle of us but finally opened his eyes. 

He looked over at Maya, a tired smile on his face. He didn’t look fucking hungover! 

Maya giggled and attempted to get under the blanket with Chris. He noticed her rolling around and opened up the top of the blanket. I saw a glimpse of his abs and thought to myself how unfair this was. “Hey there, little lady, long time no see.”

“Hi Chris!” Maya replied cheerfully as she settled underneath the comforter. I winced at her loud, happy voice. “We didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Yeah, we had no idea what we were walking into,” Archie replied in a surprisingly good mood. Probably from seeing me in an embarrassing situation. I rolled my eyes and sat up in the bed. Chris must’ve tucked us into the blanket because I don’t remember us under the covers when we were talking.

“You could’ve texted me to warn me,” Char began, a small smirk forming on her face. I narrowed my eyes at her as she spoke. “I didn’t know you had company.”

“Company has a name, you know,” Chris teased, closing his eyes again and seeming not to mind the current situation. The man looked like he was about to go back to sleep! He truly had no shame. It was almost admirable. I wished I could be this at ease. I needed more sleep and some fucking pain pills.

“It’s not— We just— We fell asleep, shut up,” I said as I got out of the bed to get that pain medication. Maya gladly took the extra room and Chris only moved to take up more room in the bed, cuddling one of my pillows. Jerks.

I ran my fingers through my hair and adjusted my clothes to seem less like a mess. I frowned as Archie took another picture of me. With the flash on. She wasn’t even trying to be subtle. “This one’s for Snapchat.”

“Don’t put me on any social media,” Chris’ voice was muffled because his face was buried in a pillow. “My publicist will kill me.”

“Got it,” Archie said as she typed away. She glanced back up at me and then back down to the phone, “Sim, you look like a mess.”

“Thanks,” I scowled, the talking making my head pound worse. “I kind of just woke up.”

“Well, Chris over here looks like a Greek God,” Archie pointed at the lightly snoring man on my bed. “You don’t have an excuse!”

Chris grunted in acknowledgement but said no actual words. 

“Look at him, I bet they didn’t have to use any Photoshop in his movies,” Archie giggled, poking an elbow at Char. Char, who had been silently letting me get made fun of, now joined in. Traitor.

“Yeah, Sim, you should probably get cleaned up,” she laughed before asking, “Seriously, why didn’t you text me? I would’ve brought the girls later.”

“Marc has my phone!” I groaned into my hands as I walked out of the crowded room. Chris was falling asleep again and Maya was just looking at him, but Archie and Char followed. Once in the kitchen, I resumed talking. “Marc went home with some guy last night and had all my stuff with him.”

“And so, you took home Chris,” Archie cackled. I threw my head in my hands and felt my face heat up. She was being way too loud and if Chris heard this, he’d never want to speak to me again.

“Shut up, Archana,” I groaned even louder. I filled up a glass of water and Char took this as a cue to grab the Ibuprofen for me. “I didn’t take him home! Like that!”

“That doesn’t explain why Chris and you were snuggling up in your bed,” Char said, in a lower voice than Archie as she handed me the pills. I rolled my eyes and swallowed them, gulping down the full glass of water while maintaining eye contact with Char. She was trying to see if I was bluffing and I wasn’t going to back down. 

After finishing the glass of water, I put the glass in sink and gestured for the living room. I was trying to remember everything that happened last night, wracking my brain to see if I embarrassed myself too much.

“Marc hooked up with Chris’ brother, Scott. He had my wallet, keys and phone. Chris brought me home since I didn’t have any other means, and then asked if he could crash here since they’d be at his house,” I said, recounting all I remembered of the previous evening’s chain of events. Char sat on the couch with Archie as I paced in front of the coffee table. “I said yeah, we got ready for bed and somehow fell asleep together.”

“Likely story,” Archie grinned, her eyebrows wiggling. My headache was getting worse and this kid was not helping at all.

“You should not even be in this conversation, you’re fucking thirteen!” I hissed. 

“Language,” Char giggled from behind her hand, trying to muffle her laughter. Archie and her didn’t succeed, both bursting into laughter. 

“I swear to God, if you’re referencing Captain America right now…” I put my hands on my hips and shook my head, not finishing my statement. “Ridiculous.”

“Chris says he’s gonna bring us breakfast!” Maya screeched excitedly, bounding from my room with light skips. I groaned at the sound of her shrill voice, rubbing my temples. 

Chris trudged along beside her, his large hand in hers. She guided him over to us in the living room. He was all perfect abs and arms and looking like he just rolled out of bed — my bed — but in the hot way. That effortlessly messy look that actually took time? Chris really did do it effortlessly. Fuckin’ jerk.

“She really likes holding hands, huh?” Chris mumbled as he passed me, rubbing his eye with the free hand. I could only manage a small smile. Maya needed constant contact with people she liked. Anyone else would be thoroughly lectured on how she needs space. She actually had weird personal space issues for a six year old. 

Maya settled down on the couch next to Char and Archie but Chris stood next to the couch, looking around. Probably looking for his clothes. He was still shirtless and in just sweatpants. But he looked good. 

“Not really,” Char answered Chris, shaking her head. “Just with people she considers her friends.”

That caught Chris’ attention and he smiled down at Maya. “You’re so cute, little one.” 

“I’m not that small,” Maya disagreed, swinging her feet back and forth. The kid was adorable and she knew it. She used it to her advantage. “I’m the third tallest girl in my class.”

Archie giggled, “Soon she’s gonna be taller than Sim.”

“Shut up! Stop busting my balls,” I rolled my eyes, my hands still on my hips. Chris laughed out of the corner of my eye and I would’ve laughed had it not been the day after drinking so heavily. I’m such a fucking dumbass. Three Long Island Iced Teas? I bet the bartender hated me.

Char cleared her throat and stood up, extending her hand to Chris. “I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. My name is Charlotte Howell.”

“The one who made Sim almost shit her pants over the phone,” he whistled, winking at me. I glowered at him. I did not almost shit my pants. “I’m Chris—“

“Chris Evans, yeah,” Char interrupted with a smirk. Chris had a small smile on his face. “There’s no need for you to introduce yourself.”

“Well,” Chris seemed a bit dumbfounded but nodded. She didn’t seem nervous or fangirl-y, she was probably reacting the exact opposite of how I did. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow and sat back down without responding. She was so confident that it made me jealous. I had so much to learn from her. Imagine if I had met Chris and I was like that? But no, I just had to be a big dorky dork. 

Meanwhile, Chris had found his shirt, belt, and pants, folded on coffee table and shrugged into the dress shirt, despite his sweatpants still on. 

“Chris, you say we could go get breakfast!” Maya reminded him, bouncing up and down on the couch. This kid was way too bubbly for this morning. I hadn’t even looked at the time, but I just knew it was too fucking early to have that much energy. I sent Maya a look telling her to shut up and she pouted. 

Chris, however, nodded at Maya, his shirt unbuttoned with the sleeves still rolled up but his sweatpants remaining on. 

“You really don’t have to do that,” I deadpanned, shaking my head. “I don’t know how she convinced you, but please, you’re not obliga-“

“She didn’t convince me,” Chris said, raising his eyebrows. He pulled down the sweatpants as he kept talking and I could see the top of his underwear, “I just suggested it.”

“There’s no need,” I started to protest, looking away from him as he started to remove his sweatpants. In front of everyone. Archie whistled as Char and Maya stifled their giggles. To be fair, our little conversation was happening right in front of them as if it was a show.

Chris interrupted me as he folded the sweatpants and placed them on the table. Jabbing a thumb back to the hallway, he looked at me expectantly. “Can we go talk really quick?”

Wait, why would we need to talk? Did I do something wrong? What happened last night? Did I say something? Was I drunk and coming onto him? Fuck, I probably did. I knew when Char told me I was a cuddly drunk, I should’ve believed her. Goddamn it, Simran.

I swallowed thickly and nodded. I was getting nervous even though the man looked harmless in an open, wrinkly dress shirt and pants-less. 

By the way, everyone, Chris Evans wears boxer briefs. This has been a public service announcement. You can see everything up close and personal with boxer briefs and, even though I already know this having felt his boner from the Gucci Guilty shooting, he’s packing some heat. Some fucking heat. I mean, should we really be surprised? It’s only expected with the amounts of women he’s been with. On that note…

Enough about Chris Evans’ dick. 

My head still fucking hurt. I needed a Gatorade.

We walked into the small hallway and I opened my room door, letting him in first. Glancing at the clock, I could see it was 9:30 AM. Still too early for me. He still held his dress pants and belt in hand and crossed his arms over his chest. I could see his perfect abdomen, so I was still in a state of shock. 

I began to apologize, though I don’t really know what for. “Listen, I’m really sor-“

“So, do you think we could drive by my house, get me some clothes, and then I’ll take you all to this nice waffle-house I know about? I’ll pay for gas and obviously I’ll pay for breakfast or brunch or whatever the fuck it’s called and I swear—”

“What?”

“This is the plan I made in my head,” Chris said, running a hand through his hair a little nervously. I eyed him, raising my eyebrow but keeping quiet. He hesitated, “But if it doesn’t work for you guys, then I can think of another one!”

“No, I’m just confused,” I admitted, looking away from him and clearing my throat. Hopefully he’d realize why. He needed to cover up soon so I could actually focus on speaking. 

“Sorry, I’ll put my pants on,” Chris giggled, his cheeks a little red.

Is this hell? Am I in hell right now? The fucker probably did it on purpose. 

As he stepped into the pants from last night, he kept talking. “I just wanna take you guys out!”

“Why?” I wrinkled my nose in confusion. What the fuck? 

“It’d be fun,” Chris insisted, looking up from zipping and buttoning his pants. “Please.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow. He started placing his belt into the belt loops and looked at me with wide eyes. “There has to be something in it for you.”

“What? You don’t trust me? We’re friends!” Chris seemed shocked but not offended. I shrugged, waiting for him to go on. He sighed, “Okay, there is something in it for me.”

My ears perked up and I gestured for him to go on. The smirk on his face told me he was dragging it out on purpose. I wanted to smack him.

“I’m really craving some waffles and ice cream,” he confessed, biting his lip with a smile. He looked at me through his eyelashes and waited for my answer.

I wanted to die. He looked so sexy right then and there with his shirt unbuttoned and his hair messy. That cute, hesitant smile was just the nail on the fucking coffin. 

“Don’t you worry about public appearances?” I inquired, the will to say no ebbing away every second. “What if someone recognizes you?”

“That’s why we gotta go back to my house first,” Chris explained. “I’ll call the owner, he knows me and we’ll take extra precaution. I have to change and freshen up. Plus, I gotta check in with my publicist and manager and let them know what I’m doing today.”

“That sounds like a lotta work for some fucking waffles,” I said, a small smirk on my face. 

His cute smile stayed as he looked at me. He knew he broke me. With ease. I’m so weak.

——————

I downed two more glasses of water before we left. I needed to hydrate and replenish and maybe not die before I had some of these fucking waffles Chris was talking about. The plan was fine with Char, so it was fine with me. 

Who was I kidding? It was fine with me anyway. I would’ve gone anywhere with Chris.

Everyone, including Chris and a sassy Maya, rolled their eyes at me as I said I needed to get ready but come on, I had this thing about looking presentable. Even more so now that I felt like shit. Look like shit, feel like shit. I couldn’t have that! Besides, everyone else was fucking dressed and ready to go. 

I changed out of Chris’ undershirt and some shorts that were essentially underwear into something actually cute and still comfortable. Also, sunglasses, because my eyes were too sensitive for brightness outside right now.

We all piled into Char’s white Honda Accord at around 10 AM. With Archie and Char in the front seat and me, Chris, and Maya in the back, it was a full car. Maya and Chris were hitting it off real well and making me a third wheel. How awkward. 

“Did you brush your teeth?” Maya asked, poking his cheek. I gulped down the lemon flavored Gatorade as I watched them interact out of the corner of my eye. “Simran says we need to brush our teeth at least twice a day. And if we can do it after a meal, then we should.”

“That’s very good advice,” Chris agreed, taking a glance at me. “No, I didn’t but I had some gum.”

“Gross,” Maya wrinkled her nose. She got that from me, according to Archie. “Why didn’t you brush your teeth, Mister?”

“Well, I didn’t have my toothbrush with me,” he pouted, bringing his arm around Maya. “Do I smell?”

He exhaled on her face as she tried to wriggle away. I giggled at the sight. 

“No, not really,” Maya answered with wonder as she stopped wriggling. “Why do we brush our teeths if we can just eat some gum?”

“Because it doesn’t actually clean your teeth, Maya,” I cut in. “Don’t get any ideas about not brushing your teeth. It’s very important.”

“You say that about flossing too!” Archie said from the front seat. I shot back that they both were important. They were!

“You sound like a dentist,” Chris said. “Actually, you sound like my dad. Who is a dentist.”

Maya hmpfed lightly as she leaned into Chris and rested her head on his stomach. He looked over at me and gave me a smile. I shivered as I thought of how I had been doing what Maya was just last night.

“I just care very much about teeth, that’s all,” I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “Can I live?”

“You’re living right now at this very moment,” Char called back. I rolled my eyes because I hated that joke. The car slowed down as Char asked, “This is your house, right?”

“You can park right in the driveway,” He nodded, already unbuckling his seatbelt. Char rolled to a stop and I eagerly looked over her seat to see the driveway. I tried not to think about how nice his house looked. “Thank you so much. You guys should come in!”

We all gave lukewarm responses. If I saw Chris’ house from the outside and thought it was nice, I’d probably weep at the inside. I had no doubt his big bucks were probably being put to good use. 

“Well, it looks like Marc is still here,” I said, looking at the red Ford Focus in the driveway. It had to be Marc’s. He sucked at parking. He usually snuck out after hookups so this meant the sex had to have been really good. “You think it went well?”

“Wanna come in?” Chris ignored my question, asking me this time. I shrugged and thought, why not? I unbuckled my own seatbelt and opened my door. He looked at Char and said, “It’ll just be for a few minutes.”

Chris unlocked his door and gestured for me to go in first, a lazy smile on his face. I inhaled quickly as I looked around. I wasn’t wrong, it was a really nice house. 

“So this is what you get for being a superhero, huh?” I whistled. Chris laughed. 

“Sit on the couch, get comfortable,” he pointed to the dark couch in front of his plasma screen TV. I did as told quickly. My headache was going away, at least. “I’ll be right back.”

“Do you think they’re still having sex?” I asked as he turned to leave. He shrugged a bit confused from my childish question. “What if you walk in on them fucking or something!?”

“I doubt they’d do it in my room,” Chris laughed, throwing his head back and slapping his hand to his chest. I murmured an agreement and he left, going up his stairs. 

“IN MY ROOM? SERIOUSLY?” I heard not even a minute later. I jumped at Chris’ incredulous voice, the pounding in my head returning for a brief moment. But I called it. I totally fucking called it. “I SLEEP HERE, SCOTT!”

Apparently, the night went well for them if they were having sex again. Plus, it had to be going extremely well if Marc hadn’t left yet. He always left at the crack of dawn and then slept the day away at home.

“Come on, Chris!” Another voice, I assumed Scott, exclaimed. “It’s not like I’ve never caught you in my room doing the same shit!”

“Nuh uh!” was Chris’ mature reply. I rolled my eyes to myself.

“Yes huh!”

“Nuh uh!” 

“You had your dick down some girl’s throat. She was tied to my fucking bed! You owe me.” 

Really needed that image in my head as I tried to remind myself I was Chris’ friend. Thank you, Scott Evans, for making my life harder.

“Jesus Christ, get some clothes on you fucks, we’re getting waffles,” Chris groaned, slamming a door. I could hear his heavy footsteps as he came down the stairs. 

I couldn’t contain my laughter when I saw his flustered face. 

“You think this is funny?” Chris said, trying to keep his voice serious but I could tell he was about to laugh as well. “You jinxed me!”

“I cannot believe I actually jinxed you!”

“It was quiet, I thought I was safe! Instead, I walk in on my brother giving your friend a blowjob.”

“Now you’re forever going to remember Marc’s junk,” I cackled. Chris rolled his eyes. “Finally, someone to share the pain with!”

“You’ve seen his junk?” Chris’ voice went an octave higher.

“Yeah, when we first met, we almost hooked up,” I giggled. “Plus, I’ve caught him having sex multiple times.”

“You guys hooked up?” 

“Almost, Christopher,” I disagreed.

“Well, what’s almost?”

“Like, second base? Almost third since I think I whipped his dick out,” I squinted my eyes, trying to remember. This had been a long time ago. “We made out. He touched my boobs like for ten seconds. Then he stopped and said there was no chemistry.”

“You whipped his— What?” Chris kept sputtering, taking a seat next to me on the couch. “Wait— You two— I thought you said—He’s with—“

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. He acted like he couldn’t even process this news.

“He’s gay, isn’t he?” Chris asked, confused. “Hence, the no chemistry?”

“Bisexual,” I corrected him, leaning back in my seat. “We really didn’t have any chemistry. Plus, he’s apparently horrible at giving girls head.”

“You just said he only touched your boobs!” He protested. His eyebrows were reaching his fucking hairline at this point.

“I said apparently,” I replied, amused by this conversation. “That’s what he’s told me.”

“Okay, okay,” Scott called out, coming down the stairs. He looked similar enough to Chris to know that they were related but different enough to be his own kind of handsome. At least he had some nice clothes on. “Now what’s this about waffles?”

Marc was following him with a shit-eating grin on his face. He was wearing clothes that weren’t the ones he was in last night. I assumed the ones he was wearing were probably Scott’s. His eyes brightened when he saw me.

“Sim? What are you doing here?” he shouted excitedly, hugging me when he reached me. 

“We’re getting waffles,” I shrugged, a casual smile on my face as I sat back down on the couch with him. “So, you got laid like you wanted!”

“Did you?!” Marc squealed, glancing at the surprised and confused brothers. We ignored them and continued talking. He was suggesting that I had sex with Chris. Which I didn’t. 

“No!” I punched him lightly in the arm. “Dumbass, give me my phone back.”

“Bitch, I gave you condoms!” Marc was clearly disappointed, reaching into his pocket for my phone. “You were supposed to use them!”

“What’d you call them again? Glass slippers?” I recalled as he handed it back to me.

“It was a very nice metaphor!”

“I’m gonna go change,” Chris muttered. He started to go up the stairs as Scott laughed at us. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Scott and Marc talked to each other while I looked through my phone and made sure to take all those pesky notifications away. The two seemed pretty chummy. Maybe Marc decided it wasn’t going to be a one night stand? Or maybe Scott did? I didn’t know the guy. After a minute or two though, I decided to talk.

“Char and the girls are waiting in the car outside,” I explained, even though no one asked. “Chris said he’s going to take us all to a waffle-house he loves.”

“Char’s here?” Marc asked, “We’re really having a weird family outing?”

I shrugged. Scott laughed, “Chris loves brunch, he’ll take whoever he can get his hands on with him. I’ve been caught in the trap many times, just like now.”

“Huh, I’ve never had brunch,” Marc said, wrapping his arm over my shoulders. “Simran over here is probably just delighted to go out with your beautiful brother.”

I glared daggers at Marc and prayed that Chris couldn’t hear us. Scott hearing it was bad enough, he could tell Chris.

“So. My brother’s mentioned you a few times,” Scott said in a pleased voice as he sat on the couch as well, sandwiching me between the two men. My face heated up as I looked at him.

“Really?” I asked. “Are you sure he was talking about me?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Scott chuckled. “He described you to a T.”

What the fuck does that mean?

“Scott here says Chris wouldn’t shut up about you,” Marc added on my other side, a mischievous glint in his eye. I furrowed my brows in confusion. 

“Exactly where, last night, did you guys get the time to talk about me? Or Chris?” I crossed my arms, resorting to comebacks. “Where in between all the mindless fucking?”

Marc and Scott laughed in unison, which was weird but cool. After they stopped, Scott shook his head, “No, but seriously.”

“We worked together, that’s probably why,” I shrugged carelessly. “Co-workers.” 

“I don’t think that’s what you guys are,” Marc teased.

“We’re kind of friends, I think,” I admitted hesitantly. “We’re bros.”

“Bros don’t talk about other bros’ asses,” Scott wiggled his eyebrows at me. I froze. The fuck?

“My ass?” I chewed on my bottom lip worriedly. “What about it?”

“Guys, let’s hurry,” Chris called, coming down from the stairs. “They’ve been waiting long enough.”

I panicked and hoped he hadn’t heard anything we were saying. I looked at Scott with a “We’re so fucking talking later” face as Chris came to join us. He subtly nodded and smirked at Marc. Assholes. They were probably just fucking with me.

Chris changed into a light gray Henley, dark jeans, and Timberland boots. He had combed through his hair again and refreshed his cologne. I could cry at how good he looked. 

“Scott and I can follow you guys,” Marc winked, before whispering in Scott’s ear.

“Sounds good,” Chris replied hurriedly as we walked to the front door. He grasped my hand to guide me out with him. I tried not to zero in on that little action. It would only cause trouble for me.

——————

Brunch was going great so far. Chris and Marc had already sized each other up and the girls loved to talk to Scott and Chris. I was catching up on how the girls had been yesterday with Char and also talking to Marc about his restaurant. Everyone was chatting and getting along. 

Chris and I across from each other so I kept meeting his eye as I ate. He would give me small smiles as he spoke to Scott on his one side and Marc on his other. 

Char bumped my shoulder, cupping her hand to my ear as she spoke, “So, Archie’s not listening. Tell me what happened.”

“I told you everything,” I whispered back. The conversations around the table were loud and the entire restaurant was noisy enough to hide what I was saying. “I promise.”

Char shrugged, seeming satisfied at the answer. She went back to talking to Marc. On my other side, Maya was trying to maintain a conversation with an eager Chris. Archie, on the other side of Maya, was listening intently to said conversation. 

“So, Simran,” Scott said, catching my attention from across the table, in front of Maya. “What are you doing for the next few weeks? Anything with your modeling and acting?”

“I don’t know job-wise, I have to check with my agent,” I shrugged casually. “What about you?”

“Going to Shanghai with my big bro,” Scott said, knocking shoulders with Chris, pulling him from his discussion with the girls. He absently took out his phone and started typing. “You know I love you for taking me everywhere, man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris rolled his eyes before looking at me. “We on the same flight?”

“What?” 

“You know, for China,” he clarified but I was just as confused as before. 

“I’m going to China?” I asked, looking at Char as if she knew what the fuck would be going on in my professional life. She clearly didn’t and was probably mirroring the same confusion I had on my face. Did Lorena mention this when I wasn’t paying attention or something?

“I’m doing promos for FILA and have a photoshoot,” Chris told me. “But I’m also going for Gucci Guilty promos and interviews.”

“We have promo stuff that quick?” I squeaked out nervously. The headache that had finally gone away was coming back again. I probably should be in contact with Lor a lot more than I am. 

“Simran, we’ll be fine,” Chris insisted, trying to calm me down.

“You’ve done this a million times, old man,” I disagreed, taking a deep breath to calm the nerves. “I’m a just a newbie.”

“I’ll be there to help you every step of the way,” he offered me a heartwarming grin that made my stomach flip. That did help a little. Chris looked like a golden retriever sometimes.

“And me too!” Scott interrupted with a wink before resuming his phone antics.

I grimaced as I reminded myself this was the life of a famous person. Constant traveling and promotions and photoshoots and films. I wanted this. I did want this. But it was tough to see it happening already.

“How long do I have?”

“We’re on a flight for early Tuesday morning.”

“So, about a day. Fuck.”

Chris gave me thumbs up and a smile, “We’ll be fine, bro.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

“So, totally a virgin, right?!”

“Yes, of course! Besides, you know that whole ‘waiting for the right partner’ thing isn’t just about dancing. I mean, c’mon, that innuendo did not fly over anyone’s head.”

“I know! I was hoping I wasn’t being a dirty minded creep when I thought that,” Chris lowered his voice so people around us didn’t hear but his eyes were still light with excitement. His hands were constantly moving as he spoke and he just looked so animated.

“Your mind is as dirty as mine, if that’s the case,” I nodded, easing into the plane seat better.

We were currently on hour two of thirteen and a half. I had nodded off for the first forty five minutes, but woke up quickly. Chris and Scott had been sat next to me, not coincidentally I could assume.

Chris told me that Scott slept like a baby on plane rides since he hated them so much. Apparently, he’d just knock back a NyQuil and tell Chris to make sure he was up by the time we were landing. Chris never slept on plane rides — according to him, it was better to be conscious if you’re falling to your death. Gave you time to reflect as you plummeted below.

I didn’t know Chris was so weirdly morbid but he had said it with a laugh.

Since his brother wasn’t a viable distraction, we decided we should talk as much as possible on the ride to make sure we weren’t bored. At this moment, we were discussing Captain America’s sexual history, or there lackof.

“You gotta tell Hayley, she doesn’t agree,” Chris ducked his head, a smile on his face. “She thinks Peggy and him had sex!”

“But Natasha must know, right?” I asked, after a pause. “Like, she feels bad for his little Stevie. By his little Stevie, I mean penis.”

Chris made a choking sound to try not to laugh too loud. “I kind of assumed you were talking penises. But, well, I don’t know if the Russo brothers thought that was the case.”

“Either that, or she wants to fuck him herself,” I decisively stated. Chris’ eyebrows rose to his hairline.

“No, she’s with Banner,” he reminded me. I rolled my eyes. Age of Ultron had been a mess. The acting, and the witty one-liners, were the only good things about it. The script, though. Ugh.

“I refuse to acknowledge that relationship,” I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest.

“It’s kind of cute!” Chris disagreed, biting his lip. “They both feel like monsters. She can’t be with Cap, they’re just good friends. Hawkeye’s married—

“Don’t even get me started on that—“

“She was the one who recruited Bruce!”

“Nick Fury recruited Steve Rogers technically, that mean they’re the perfect couple?”

“Well, I mean—“

“Coulson came to Thor first, you hear wedding bells in the distance?”

“Um, I don’t—“

“Not that there’s anything wrong with those couples per se, but the relationship clearly came out of nowhere,” I said, shooting a pointed look at Chris. “I’m gonna stand my ground, Cap.”

He chuckled, clearly amused. “Well, you got me there. I think I’m just a sucker for any type of romance.”

“I’m not,” I could feel my mouth twist in disinterest. “There’s got to be a reason. A story and a connection.”

“You need to be convinced,” Chris supplied.

I nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! Blame it on the cynic in me, but I have to be able to really believe it.”

Chris took a moment to process this and gave me an appreciative look as if to say ‘I guess I understand.’ He sighed tiredly, “Let’s think of what else to do. We didn’t do much ‘debating’ about Cap’s virginity.”

We sat together for a few minutes without words, though everyone else around us was bustling and not giving us any quiet. I tried to think of what we could do. Plane rides sucked but if we had each other, it could be fun.

I was deep in thought but then an idea hit me. I excitedly turned to Chris to tell him but was surprised to see he was already staring at me intensely. His blue eyes were stormy and beautiful and I wanted to stare at them forever. Pushing those thoughts away, I raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“What?”

“Nothin’, I was looking in your direction, is all,” Chris muttered, tearing his eyes away. His pushed his baseball cap lower on his head and slouched in his seat a bit more. He glanced back at me hesitantly. “Were you gonna say something?”

“Yeah!” I reminded myself I actually had something to say. Try not to get lost in his fucking eyes, Simran. “Do you have earphones?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Chris smiled lazily at me. I liked when he looked at me like that. I liked it a lot.

“Do you have your preferred music downloaded on your phone?”

“Well, duh,” Chris said, his eyebrows furrowing. “We’re just gonna sit and listen to our music?”

“Wrong,” I tsked. “We’re gonna sit and listen to each other’s music. It’ll be fun!”

“That does sound interesting,” Chris admitted. “Let’s make playlists. No more than 25 songs?”

I shrugged with a noncommittal sound. It was an ‘okay’ and he took it as one.

He pulled out his phone and his earbuds from his jean pocket, scrolling through his music. I decided I only wanted to make him listen to one playlist I had already made, considering it was all I had been listening to lately.

“I, I know we probably don’t have the same music taste at all,” I hesitated and Chris looked up from scrolling to stare into my eyes. “I just feel like this playlist is perfect, to me… I don’t know why, but I feel like I need to share it with everyone who’ll listen.”

“Well, if you love it, I’m sure I’ll love it,” Chris said softly. “And I’m sure you’ll humor my music too.”

“Music is kind of personal, to me,” I mumbled as I selected the playlist. I kept my eyes downcast but I could feel his burning into my profile. I kept going after he didn’t say anything, “It speaks to me and my emotions. I don’t know how, but it does.”

When I turned to look at him, Chris smiled at me gently. “I’ll be sure to listen carefully, then.”

I could feel my heart expanding with emotion but I fought the huge grin on my face. I tried to keep cool, you know, so as not to freak him out. I was nervous to show him my music even though I had suggested it.

It felt like an intimate action, to me. His reassurance eased me a little. Just a little.

“Here,” he nudged me gently, handing me his phone and earphones. The playlist said ‘For Simran’ as the title. My heart, you guys, was gonna burst. “Just press play when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” I told him as I handed him my own phone and earphones. He put in the earbuds and immediately press play.

“She sounds pretty,” was the first thing he commented. He was listening to Halsey’s Castle. The playlist basically consisted of Halsey, Hozier, Arctic Monkeys, and Ellie Goulding.

I tried to not stare at him as he listened, but he was making listening to music look so damn sexy. He was tapping my phone absently against his full lips, his eyes closed as he drank in the music. In that moment, I wished I was my phone.

I was 100% Chris had some kind of oral fixation or lip fetish because the asshole always had to touch his lips somehow. He played with his lips, he put things up to his lips, he kissed a lot of people on cheeks and foreheads (and probably lips too, who am I to know?).

The man was going to kill me with those fucking lips of his. What a beautiful way to die though, right?

I sighed, placing the earphones in and pressing the play button. I could’ve laughed out loud. The first song was Notorious B.I.G.’s Juicy. Of course Chris put this on his playlist. He also had September’s Earth, Wind & Fire and the entire Goon album by Tobias Jesso Jr.

He only had fourteen songs in his playlist for me whereas I had twenty two, so I finished before him. I decided to let the songs replay until he was done.

Chris’ phone vibrated and I looked down to see a message notification pop up. He apparently didn’t notice as he was listening to my music but I glanced. Just a glance. Basically nothing.

6:43 AM Minka

Open message?

I was not going to be some nosy weirdo. Nope. Not at all. Do not open it. Do not read that shit. He is sitting right next to you, for God’s sake. Do not even think about it.

But why was he texting Minka? Were they really back together? He had privacy settings over his texts? Why was I worrying about this? Goddamn it, Simran.

“Can you remind me to download some of your songs?” Chris asked excitedly as he took out the earbuds. I quickly tore my eyes away from his phone and gulped, trying not to look guilty.

“Yeah, of course, what ones?” I asked, trying to find my voice again. He looked back down at my phone and showed me the ones he was talking about.

“New Americana had a sample of Juicy in it, actually, so that’s awesome,” Chris told me with a grin as he placed my phone in my hand. “Hozier’s really good too, To Be Alone is my favorite of his that I’ve heard.”

“I’m glad you liked them,” I said, trying to push my thoughts back into my mind. I took out his earphones and handed him back his phone. “I’ll just text you the entire playlist later.”

“What about the playlist I made for you? Did you like it?”

“Yeah, actually,” I relaxed a bit. “I really liked all the songs. I like a lot of different kinds of music, it just depends on my mood. The playlist I made you listen to just kind of relates to me.”

“Oh?” Chris’ eyebrow quirked up in a comical way. “You’re a wanderess and a one night stand? Don’t belong to no city, don’t belong to no man?”

“Shut up,” I giggled, nudging my shoulder at his arm before looking at his sleeping brother next to him. “Scott really is going to sleep for the whole flight, huh?”

“Yup,” Chris sighed heavily before bringing his arm around my shoulder. I stiffened at the contact despite having made out with him in front of cameras just a week ago. I don’t know why he still had such an effect on me. “At least, we have each other.”

“What else do you want to do?” I tried to not focus on his muscles and how I wanted to sleep on him. Even his muscle-y arm felt comfortable.

“I don’t know,” Chris shrugged, removing his arm from me after a pause. “What kind of shows do you watch?”

“Lots but my favorites right now are comedies,” I replied instantly perking up. “I’m really into shows like The Office, Parks and Recreation, and Arrested Development. What about you?”

“I loved Arrested Development!” Chris agreed eagerly. “Cannot believe it was cancelled.”

“I know, how could it possibly get cancelled!?”

“I’ve seen a few episodes of Parks and Recreation here and there, my buddy Chris is in it and I did a few movies with Aubrey too.”

Obviously I knew what actors he was talking about, even if he was saying it so casually.

“Oh my god, you met Aubrey? She’s like my idol,” I squealed before turning serious, “But you haven’t watched The Office?”

“Nope,” Chris admitted. “Never got around to it.”

“Christopher, oh my god,” my wide eyes were probably hilarious but I was in complete shock. “Please… Oh no. God, please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not, I wish I was,” Chris said, but I was just shaking my head at him.

“Are you serious? You have to watch it. Like, you have to. It’s law.”

“Well, I don’t kn—“

“I have the first two seasons on my laptop, we have to watch it right now,” I said immediately, opening my laptop case and pulling my earphones out of my phone.

“But, what—“

“No, no, no,” I was not having it. How could he not have watched the best show on earth?

“Okay,” Chris said, easing back into his seat even more than before. He gave me a cheeky grin, “As long as you watch it with me.”

“Oh, you bet your ass I will,” I scoffed, placing the laptop on the armrest between us. “Get ready for a fucking treat.”

——————

We stopped after seven hours of watching. Seven continuous hours of watching The Office and neither of us complained. Chris was really getting into it, he even whined when I said we should probably stop. We somehow watched 20 episodes.

“Okay, I didn’t know I was really missing out on that much,” he said, stretching as best as he could in the seat. “I can’t believe we watched so much. How many seasons are there?”

“There’s nine and you have to watch all of them,” I replied, excitedly.

Chris’ eyes widened hilariously, they looked like saucers. “Nine seasons?!”

“And season eight sucks but you gotta get through it.”

“NINE?”

“You have to!” I pouted. “22 minute episodes, Christopher! You can do it!”

He sighed and smiled almost to himself. “I cannot understand how you’re getting me do this so easily.”

“So you’ll do it?” I grinned.

“Yes, whenever I get time from my busy schedule, I’ll sit my ass down and watch The fucking Office for you. I’ll even text you when I do.”

“You are the best!” I exclaimed, leaning over to smack a kiss on his cheek in all the excitement. I could feel the scruff on my lips and when I leaned back, he gave me the biggest smile.

Smiling was good, right? I hoped he didn’t think I pushed him too far or something. I know I shouldn’t have done that, he probably had something with Minka. I’m so stupid. He could just be smiling but thinking about how I needed to stay away from him.

“I know I am, but you owe me.”

“Okay, what do I owe you?”

I was relieved he wasn’t saying anything against the kiss. Not that it was anything other than innocent. What was I thinking before? It was just a harmless kiss on the cheek. Friends do that. Bros can kiss each other on the cheek. It’s a thing. Somewhere. Right?

“How about a beer tonight?” Chris raised one eyebrow at me, as if daring me to say no.

“Are we even allowed to leave our hotel rooms tonight?” I asked, raising my own eyebrow in return. Two can play the eyebrow-raising game.

His mischievous smile was both turning me on and making me worried. Mostly the former.

“Probably not, but you could order a beer from room service,” Chris suggested. “We could watch more episodes of The Office. I’ll provide the food. Scott’ll provide the unnecessary commentary.”

“Scott’s going to be awake?” I giggled. “Boy’s out like a light.”

“Ah, he’s slept like a baby on this plane ride,” Chris said dismissively. “Says it’s something about jet lag not being as horrible.”

“Well, I think it sounds like it’ll be fun,” I agreed. “We have interviews all day tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think we both have a few individuals and then the rest are together.”

“Oh.”

“You’ll be fine, I’ll stand in the sidelines during your interviews if I’m not interviewing at the same time.”

“Why would you do that?”

Chris balked at my question. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he hesitated, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. I only want to help.”

“Oh, of course it’ll help,” I insisted, realizing how harsh I had probably sounded. “I’m sorry, I just meant, why would you want to help?”

“Simran, why do you always second-guess me being nice?” Oh no, he was starting to sound more serious.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, looking away from him. I bit my lip from the stress I was giving myself. Stop talking, idiot. You’re making things weird!

“Well, stop it, I want to help you in all the ways I can,” Chris’ voice was commanding and left no room for argument. Too bad I always argued.

“Why waste your energy on me?” I asked, shifting in the uncomfortable seat that I’d sat in for nearly ten hours already.

“It’s not wasting my energy, it’s helping someone I care about.”

“But what—“

“Look, honey, I don’t know what I, or anyone, did to make you think that you’re not worth effort but you are. I’m not going to stop thinking that.”

I bit my lip harder as I mulled over my words. Then, I decided to shut up about it, finally. For now. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Sorry, I know I must sound crazy over something as small as interviews.”

“You’re not crazy at all,” Chris said, grabbing the hand that I had on the armrest. He gave it a squeeze and smiled at me. “Interviews aren’t small to me either. I have anxiety too, and I’ll help you because it’s important to know you’re not alone.”

I have anxiety too, he said. Did I ever mention to him that I had anxiety? Not that it was hard to tell. I was a fucking wreck most of the time.

Our hands together pulled me from my thoughts. I felt warm and squishy inside. My hand felt like it belonged underneath his own.

He was warm and soft and gentle. He made me want to stay by his side on this stuffy airplane forever while his brother snored next to us.

This man was perfect. No one could tell me otherwise.

“I’ll help you, too, if I can,” I somehow managed to squeak out. Chris gave me a dazzling smile, with the eye crinkles and perfect teeth. I tried to mirror it, but I bet I looked like a monkey compared to him.

“We can help each other,” Chris spoke softly, giving my hand one final squeeze before removing it. I felt sad for the lack of contact but it was probably for the best considering I could barely handle sitting next to him. 

Shit, I had such a crush on him.

——————

Chris and I just talked for the remainder of the flight about random stuff. He told me how this year had been so busy for him and that he couldn’t wait to go home to Boston soon. He mentioned his family trip to Disneyland was happening during December.

I told him the girls missed him already. I also spoke about the new movie I was going to be in. I told him I was excited since it was my first movie and that I couldn’t wait for filming. He shared my excitement and congratulated me.

When we got to China, leaving the airport was horrible but a blur. Chris and Scott had to stop and wait for his management team but I was only with a handler at the time. We were told we would see each other back at the hotel.

Once we were settled into our hotel rooms, I met with my temporary manager, Jane, and a personal assistant, Suzy, provided by Gucci. Suzy filled me in on the events I had to go to over the next few days (interviews, photoshoot, more interviews), reminded me that I was not allowed to leave the hotel tonight, and told me about the fitting I had to go to in about fifteen minutes.

I felt like a zoo animal, being poked and prodded at the fitting. But hey, at least everything would fit for the next few days. Despite all these clothes being on loan and me not being able to keep them, I felt like a million bucks. Besides, all celebrities rented clothes. I was just well on my way to being a celebrity.

When I was finally left alone, I showered. You know the feeling after a long day, when you just shower and feel the tiniest bit better? I stayed in for longer than needed but I felt nice and clean. That was something, at least.

I was laying in my bed, wrapped in the robe the hotel provided and playing with my just blow-dried hair when the hotel telephone rang. I scrambled to answer, confused, because who the fuck would be calling me?

“We still on for tonight?” Scott’s voice was insanely loud on the other line and I flinched, shaking my head to myself.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” I groaned, running a hand over my freshly washed face. I put the phone on speaker as I quickly worked off my robe. Searching for clothes through my suitcase, I told him, “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll head over. What’s your room number?”

“Girl, we’re across from you,” Scott snorted. I slipped on panties and a bra, trying to think of what would be appropriate to wear. Obviously comfortable clothes? Just nice ones. Nothing too casual though, right? I needed to look like I wasn’t trying even though I obviously was. “Chris is ordering pizza right now, what do you want?”

“Pepperoni is fine,” I replied as I pulled on black, lounging shorts. “Uhh. What kind of beer do you guys want?”

“Chris loves Sam Adams but if they don’t have it, then anything. Just call room service and get your ass over here,” he giggled as I hurriedly put on an old UCLA t-shirt. “We’re watching that stupid show you got Chris hooked on.”

“You guys started without me?! Assholes!” At this point, I was hopping around, slipping on some knee high socks.

“That’s why I said hurry!” and with that, Scott hung up.

I ordered the beer and told them to charge me but send it to Chris’ room. I looked myself over in the mirror one last time and groaned, looking at the dark circles under my eyes. I needed some fucking concealer.

What’s the point though? It’s not like Chris hasn’t seen me without makeup already.

But still. I glanced back at my makeup bag and sighed.

Well… Maybe just a little bit…

I don’t really know what was considered “a little bit” to some people, but I put on concealer, ran a dark eyeshadow over my eyebrows to fill them in a bit, and swiped on some mascara.

I walked out of my room and knocked on the door in front of me. Scott opened the door and looked straight ahead, jokingly peering out the door. “Someone here?”

I barely knew him and he still acted like we’d been friends for years. Chris did that too. I liked it. I bet all of the Evans family made people feel that way. It was probably a genetic thing.

“Ha-ha, I’m down here, Scott,” I pouted, waited for him to step aside so I could walk into the room. “Now let me in so I can steal your food and watch TV.”

I decided that my outfit of choice was spot on after looking at Scott. He wore a plain white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Clearly sleep clothes, because this was a laid-back and comfy hang out.

But why was I so nervous then? Oh right, because anything with Chris made me nervous.

“Oh, very well,” he sighed dramatically, allowing room for me to walk in. I looked around and surveyed the already messy room. Not too messy, but Scott had obviously been unpacking his clothes and Chris had just left his duffel bag on his bed.

The room was similar to mine with the setup and couch, but with two queen beds instead of one. I smirked at Scott, “You boys didn’t plan on sharing a bed, huh?”

“Nah, we’re not toddlers anymore,” Chris’ teasing voice came from behind me. I jumped and turned around to see him, still in the clothes he wore since we had boarded the plane. He looked like a mess. But a cute mess.

“We’ve got pictures though,” Scott stage-whispered to me before Chris pulled me into a hug like we’d been separated for years. We had just seen each other a couple of hours ago but I wasn’t complaining. I eased into his body, telling myself not to let out the content sigh I wanted to.

“No you don’t, Ma has ‘em,” Chris said, he kept me in his arms as he spoke. I could feel his body shake with laughter and I loved being this close. Imagine being this close to him all the time. I’d implode.

“She can take pictures of them on her phone and send them to me,” Scott stuck his tongue out before sitting back down on the couch in front of their TV. “Sim's gonna die when she sees them.”

Ignoring his brother, Chris took a good look at me when we got out of our embrace. He looked at my socks with a smirk, “Are those thigh highs?”

“Knee socks,” I laughed at Chris’ expression. My short legs made knee highs go midway up my thigh. “Thigh highs would go all the way up past my underwear, basically.”

An exaggeration, but essentially true.

“Now that’s a sight some of us would want to see,” Scott called from the couch, causing Chris to turn a pretty shade of pink. “Now get over here, I lied about us starting without you.”

“You jerk!” I giggled as I walked over to couch, sitting next to Scott. There was another knock on the door a moment later and Chris came back to us with beer and pizza.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower, don’t start without me,” Chris warned me, before shooting Scott a glare. “Scott, don’t bug her too much.”

"You could’ve hopped in the shower an hour ago!" Scott shouted, before turning back to me. He had a huge smirk on his face but didn’t start talking till Chris shut the door and the water was turned on. “So…”

“Chris said be nice to me!” I reminded him, feeling a bit nervous with that look on his face.

Scott rolled his eyes. “I’m very nice to you. I like you, you’re cool. Besides, you’re close to Marc.”

“Ooh, about that,” I squealed, leaning into him. Finally something to really talk about. “What’s up with you two? You guys gonna date?”

“I don’t know, I hope so,” Scott shrugged, but he looked at me expectantly. “Did he say anything about me?”

“In the whole day we weren’t together?” I snorted. “Not really, but believe me, the stuff I did get out of him was good. He likes you.”

“Okay, good.”

“I’ve got to be honest,” I told him. “For as long as I’ve known him, Marc has never stayed that late at someone’s house. Nor has he ever had brunch with the person he’s slept with. So, you’re someone different already.”

“Oh, God, you’re a lifesaver for telling me this,” Scott exclaimed, pulling me into him for a side hug. “We planned to meet when I got back and he has my number, but he hasn’t texted me.”

“He will,” I tried to reassure Scott, still in his side. I knew Marc would text him but I’d remind him, just in case. “So, you like him?”

“Of course I like him,” Scott scoffed but it was good-naturedly. “Almost as much as you like my brother.”

“Wh-What? No, I don’t,” I started to lower my voice. “I told you before, we’re friends.”

“Oh no, no, no,” Scott shook with laughter. “You both are so weirdly similar.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about, Scott?” I glared at him from the other end of the couch. “Come on. I told you what you needed to know about Marc!”

“Well, that’s true,” Scott hummed, still amused. I glared at him, willing him to tell me whatever the fuck he was talking about.

Just then the bathroom door opened, but I was already speaking. “Scott whatever-your-middle-name-is Evans, I swear I will smack you.”

“It’s Andrew!” Chris’ voice boomed through the room, making both Scott and I jump.

I looked over at him and regretted it. Well, not really. I could’ve died happy right then. Chris had a towel slung low on his hips and his entire body was still wet. Droplets of water were still trailing down his body — from his chest to his abdomen to his hips and then even lower, under the towel.

I felt a chill go through my body at the thoughts I was having but I gave him tight-lipped smile. He gave us a nod as he went over to his bed and unzipped his duffel bag. Scott and I looked at him, waiting for an explanation for his wet, barely covered body’s appearance.

“Forgot you were here, Sim,” Chris huffed out a laugh.

One hand was still holding his towel but the other searched for clothes in his bag. He had the decency to look a little embarrassed. The fucker looked like an Adonis but he still seemed a bit ashamed. It was cute.

“Oh,” was all I mumbled like a dumbass. Lucky for me, he forgot I was here. That meant I got to see his body all wet and naked and clean. Scott, however, wasn’t convinced.

“Forgot she was here, huh?” he muttered under his breath, only low enough for me to hear. “Mmhmm.”

Chris avoided my eyes but it’s not like I would really be looking him in the face anyway. I was too busy staring at those beautiful arms of his. Or his chest. Or the ‘V’ shape of his hips…

Okay, stop it. Snap out of it, Simran. Stop feasting your eyes on him like he’s food!

Scott’s incredulous snort and the bathroom door shutting pulled me out of my thoughts. I had zoned out for a bit apparently. Chris was gone again and I glanced back at a grinning Scott.

“What a tease,” Scott giggled under his breath. “If he actually forgot you were here, he’d have been naked. He’s just showing off.”

“Scott, I don’t think—“

“Oh, he totally is. He so did it on purpose,” Scott shook his head with a huge grin on his face. He thought it was hilarious. If Chris really had done that on purpose, he was really good at acting modest.

Either way, I was going to die of sexual frustration.

“That boy is gonna fuck me up, Scott,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair.

“Oh, baby, you guys will be fine,” he rubbed my back. “Just fuck each other and get over it.”

“I don’t know,” I moaned, leaning my head into him.

I was glad for Scott. Even if he was Chris’ brother, he felt like someone I could talk to. I needed the guy’s number in case I fell deeper into the Chris craziness. Besides, if he was going to date my best friend, I’d need it anyway.

Chris chose this moment to come out. At least he was fully clothed this time. He wore black basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. He sat down next to me and looked at the untouched pizza boxes and beer.

“Aww, you kids waited for me,” Chris said, winking at me as he grabbed a beer. Scott scoffed and opened a box of pepperoni pizza, grabbing a napkin as well. I grabbed a beer as well as I patiently waited to start watching.

“We gonna watch The Office so I can ogle at John Krasinski or what?”

Okay, maybe not ‘patiently.’

Chris burst into laughter, his hand resting on his chest as if to anchor himself. “You think he’s cute? Him and his bowl cut?”

“Chris, to be fair, you sported a bowl cut before,” Scott piped in from my other side. Chris just grinned as he leaned himself back on the couch. His arm rested on the back of the couch and his legs were stretched out in front of him.

“You had a—? Wait, nevermind, he gets cuter!” I protested. “He’s so sweet, he’s like the perfect guy in this show. Plus, in real life, with Emily Blunt.”

“God, you know your actors,” Chris giggled as he pressed play. He glanced away from the screen and looked at me, “You sleepin’ here tonight?”

“I doubt it,” I shrugged, my eyes not moving away from the TV. “I don’t want my temporary manager to have a heart attack if she sees me in an Evans sandwich.”

“Scandal of the year,” Scott agreed sarcastically. “Especially when one of them is gay.”

“If I fall asleep though, make sure I get back to my room before 5 AM?” I said, remembering that Suzy told me that the hair and makeup team would be there by 5:30 in the morning.

Now I was ignoring the two guys next to me in favor of watching the TV. I knew I would talk during the episode, but anything they were actually saying to me would probably be disregarded.

“Yeah, yeah,” I could tell Chris was smiling at me from my peripheral vision. “So, are Jim and Pam like, ever going to get together?”

Scott told Chris to shut up but I rolled my eyes playfully. “You’ll see!”

Chris groaned in fake annoyance but then settled in closer to me as we watched. He played with my hair absently and I could feel his arm bulging behind me as it moved. I let my eyes close every now and then, making sure the purr that wanted to come out was stuck in my throat.

I tried to push back all the feelings that had been bubbling beneath the surface.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I really had a crush on him. And I really needed not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! 
> 
> If anyone wants to know Simran's playlist, I can probably send links of songs. :)
> 
> Here's some:
> 
> Castle - Halsey https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1rfSHisyHdc  
> New Americana - Halsey https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLFSVBO9WOE  
> To Be Alone - Hozier https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ck_hZdKDOsg  
> Hurricane - Halsey (lyrics said by Chris) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26VNSfPKoYA


	14. Chapter Fourteen

“Damn, you look good as hell,” was Scott’s greeting to me on this horrible morning. I would’ve smiled but I was cranky and nervous. The lobby of this building was filled with people but Chris was nowhere to be found. For some reason, all I wanted to see was Chris.

We’d gotten to the studio in separate cars, meaning I hadn’t seen him all morning. Plus, it was 8 AM and my PA, Suzy, still hadn’t gotten my Chai Tea Latte in my hand. In short, I was a grumbling, mumbling mess.

“Don’t talk to me yet,” I moaned, settling as gracefully as I could into the chair next to him. I tried to smooth down my skirt and sat up as straight as possible so as not to mess up my hair. He cackled, finding joy in my misery, and I glared at him. “I can’t believe I fell asleep somehow squished between you two.”

It was admittedly weird being woken up so gently by Chris at 5 AM. He brushed the hair out of my face and whispered my name a couple of times. He was patient and let me pout for a few minutes before I got up and thanked him for the night. He just gave me a smile, a kiss on the cheek (I screamed internally) and told me he’d see me here.

But I still hadn’t seen him and despite telling myself it was just nerves, I was getting more and more antsy by the minute. I think… I think I missed him. Which was ridiculous, to say the least. I had just seen him a couple of hours ago.

“We’re comfy. Want some coffee?” Scott offered his mug and I shook my head, distaste clear on my face. Coffee was a last resort. Chai was what I grew up on and what I loved. 

“No,” I grumbled, looking around for Suzy with my stupid Chai Tea Latte. You know what? Chai tea is a fucking redundant name because chai actually means tea. So in reality, I was waiting for my goddamn Tea Tea Latte. “I prefer my chai.”

“Didn’t Chris spill coffee on you the first time you guys met?” Scott asked and I sunk lower in my seat in response, remembering how weird that had been. He guffawed, “You two were probably so fucking awkward, that’s hilarious.”

“Scott, you’re an ass,” I stuck my tongue out at him. He just drank his coffee with a stupid smile on his face. So much like his brother.

Not long after, I spotted my PA in the crowd of people around us. I waved her over and she found us quickly. Thank fucking God.

“So sorry about the wait, Ms. Grover,” she apologized, handing me a warm cup of heaven.

“No worries at all,” I shook my head and waved her off, all annoyance dissipating as I took my first sip. I’d never actually been mad at her, just at everything. You know how it is in the morning. Mornings fucking suck.

“Mr. Evans has requested for you and his brother to go to the waiting room,” Suzy told me as she looked back and forth between us. “If you could follow me, we could be there before his interview starts.”

“Lead the way,” Scott sighed, standing up from his seat at the same time I did.

When we saw Chris, he didn’t even have a chance to say hi. He waved at us from his lonesome couch but we were shooed into a waiting room as he got ready with the interviewer. She was beautiful, blonde and about his age. He could probably ask her out, if he wanted.

The room was nice, with a roomy couch, a food table, and a TV. Scott laid out on the couch, crossing his legs and sipping his coffee. In the corner, the TV showed Chris and the interviewer laughing about some joke he made. His laugh was beautiful and the interviewer was obviously flirting.

Chris tried his best not to seem tired but I could tell he had needed more sleep last night. I probably shouldn’t have kept him up. Even if he invited me, I shouldn’t have.

I started to pace as I thought (well, worried) about the interviews. What if this was a mistake? What if I wasn’t ready yet? Actually, I wasn’t ready yet. I basically had no idea what I was in for. I didn’t know how well Chris and I could show chemistry with interviews! We’d never had to do that before.

Jane, my temporary manager, had gone over what questions were going to be asked and Chris said he would help, but I knew I was going to fuck this up. I just knew it. Why didn’t I just stay in LA? I had no business being here. I wasn’t somebody like Chris! I was a nobody who’d gotten a small break.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Sim, are you talking to yourself in another language?” Scott’s incredulous voice cut through my train of thought.

Looking over at him, I stopped pacing. Had I been speaking to myself? In Punjabi? Shit.

I ran a hand through my hair nervously, probably fucking up the style but not caring at the moment. “It’s a weird habit. I don’t realize I’m doing it half the time.”

“Drink your chai and stop worrying,” Scott drawled. I did the first part of what he told me. “You’re adorable, the camera loves you.”

“I don’t know about that, Scott,” I let out a shaky laugh before taking another gulp.

“Stop it,” Scott sighed, sitting up and looking at me. “You’re not a nobody. You’re well on your way to being somebody. Show them that.”

“What if I fuck up?” I asked, my voice small. Scott rolled his eyes but remained serious.

“You will not fuck it up,” he told me, taking a sip of his coffee. “If anything, Chris will.”

“I really doubt that,” I shook my head. “He’s had years of practice.”

“Eh, he’s kind of a dumbass,” Scott shrugged before sending me a wicked grin. “Plus, you might make him tongue-tied.”

“Shut up,” I replied so cleverly. We both looked back at the TV to see how Chris was doing.

Chris had on a black sweater and dark jeans with brown boots. It was a different look from my blue midi skirt and top. The only thing that joined the two outfits together were the hints of brown accessories my stylist had given me.

He looked so simple and I looked like I was trying too hard. Not that it was my choice and not that I wasn’t grateful to be able to wear beautiful clothes. I just felt inadequate because he could look like a fucking Adonis in normal clothes and I still looked like an idiot in an amazing outfit.

“Looks like they’re getting ready to start his individual,” Scott said as he finished his coffee. “Sit next to me so you don’t get tired in those damn heels.”

I did as told when Chris started speaking to the interviewer about what was next for his Marvel contract. Jesus, they started hitting him with those questions right from the start now?

Chris seemed to be more at ease and even flirted back with the woman. Color touched his cheeks when he was asked about his relationship status but he remained coy as ever. I wanted to ask him about it, ask him if he was with Minka or someone else or what. But that would be intruding and, in all honesty, I probably didn’t want to know the answer.

I drowned out most of the actual interview, focusing just on how calm Chris seemed. I needed to be like that, I needed to be relaxed and witty like he was. Scott giggled at something being said and I focused back into the conversation.

“So now, in a few minutes, we’ll have the new face of Gucci Guilty interviewing with us,” the interviewer said. Aw, fuck. Now this is going to be awkward, isn’t it? 

“Before she gets here, can you tell us what to expect from Simran Grover?”

“Simran’s a fantastic girl,” Chris said with a smile. My cheeks burned from the sound of his earnest voice. “She’s warm and smart and funny. Very talented woman.”

“So you like her?” she flipped her hair, giving him the side eye.

“Of course! Sim’s phenomenal at what she does, she jokes with me and makes me feel at ease. When she auditioned, I knew she was the one I wanted to be on that set with. She exceeded my expectations, actually.”

“We can see that,” the interviewer laughed, grinning wickedly. “So, how did it feel to kiss her?”

“No, no, no. Oh, man, we’re not gonna do that,” he said, his cheeks turning pink. “We are not doing that. She’s a beautiful girl and she’s a great friend.”

I carefully buried my face in my hands (I did not want to mess up my makeup, I’d get killed) when Scott nudged me on the shoulder. He gestured towards the TV with a huge grin on his face. Motherfucker.

“Boo, no fun. Judging by what you’ve said thus far, you two are close?”

“I would say so,” Chris said hesitantly but with a smirk on his face. “She calls us ‘bros’ you know. We’re good friends.”

“Speaking of bros, you brought your brother here,” the interviewer changed the subject quite easily.

I couldn’t believe he brought up my ‘bro’ thing again. I would probably never live it down with him. What an ass. An adorable, sweet ass.

Soon Chris was dismissed and I was on my way out. We met in the middle, outside the waiting room. His eyes lit up when he saw me and I’m sure I did the same. He hugged me and I eased into him, feeling the most calm I had all day.

“You’re gonna do great,” Chris whispered, rubbing my back. I sighed heavily before looking up at him. He smoothed my hair and smiled, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” my eyes widened at the compliment before I could stop myself. He’d complimented me before, I didn’t understand why it always shocked me.

Moments later, I was basically torn out of his embrace when Jane told me I had to go. My nerves were back, but the force of them had been taken away from seeing Chris. It was all a blur from leaving him up until the interviewer asked me how I was doing.

“Oh, I’m great,” I said, a smile plastered on my face. I hoped I didn’t look fake. “Shanghai is beautiful and I can’t wait to see more.”

“Yes, it really is,” the interviewer agreed. “I also can’t wait to see more.”

We spoke about some of my previous work before firing up the questions a few minutes in. “Gucci Guilty is a sexy scent. Do you consider yourself sexy and mysterious?”

“Well, I don’t know about that sexy part but I do know I like my privacy, if that counts as mysterious,” I said before biting my lip. Was that an okay answer? Did I sound stupid?

“I would say it does. How do you relate to the character in the story? You think you have a bit of naughtiness to yourself?”

“I guess so, sure. She’s impulsive, I’m like that sometimes,” I agreed before joking, “But she’s a lot better looking than me.” 

She laughed and asked, “Do you have any guilty pleasures?”

Fuck. I knew this question was going to come up but still hadn’t thought of anything.

“I think we all have them!” I said, deflecting the question as I thought of an answer better than ‘thinking about fucking my co-star.’ Thank God, I had a filter because that was the first thing that came to mind.

“What are yours?” she pushed.

“Hm, we’re keeping it PG here,” I joked. “So, I’d say food. All kinds of food. Especially dark chocolate.”

“Dark chocolate, huh? Chris said ice cream, so I guess you’re both on the same track,” the interviewer replied. “How’s it feel to be on the radar so suddenly?”

“I think I’m still in shock,” I admitted with a small giggle. “But I think I’ll be fine. I have people who help me and keep me grounded. Everyone I’ve met because of this, I’m grateful for.”

“Everyone you’ve met including Chris Evans? Has he told you any of his Marvel secrets?”

“No,” I laughed, feeling a bit more at ease now that I thought of Chris. “He’s good at keeping secrets! I still want to know how he tore that log in the last one.”

“So you watch the movies?”

“Of course she does,” Chris said, now seating himself at the couch. I jumped at the sound of his voice but sent him an amused smile. “What kind of person doesn’t?”

“A DC fan,” I teased, now even more comfortable as I felt his arms touching mine on the couch. He threw his arm over the back of the couch and let out a huge laugh at that.

The interviewer politely laughed before moving the interview forward. “Now that you two are both here, how about a ‘This or That’ game?”

“Oh God,” Chris said at the same time I said, “Of course.”

“Easy ones first. Red or blue?”

“Blue,” we said in unison.

“Star Trek or Star Wars?”

“Star Wars,” we both replied with the same ease.

“Beatles or Rolling Stones?”

“Beatles,” Chris said while I replied with “Rolling Stones.”

“Interesting. Game of Thrones or Breaking Bad?”

“Game of Thrones,” I said quickly.

“You just like to be the opposite of me, don’t ya?” Chris teased. “Breaking Bad.”

“DC or Marvel?”

“Marvel,” Chris replied quickly. He knocked knees with me after seeing my smirk.

“You’re killing me! I got the face of Marvel right next to me,” I giggled before saying, “I guess right now I’ll say Marvel but if I was sitting next to Henry Cavill, I’d be saying DC.”

Chris let out a comical groan, “Traitor.”

“Captain America or Iron Man?” the interviewer grinned at us, twirling her blonde hair.

“Captain America,” Chris said before quirking an eyebrow at me.

“Robert Downey Jr. is the love of my life,” I sighed dramatically. “So, Iron Man.”

Chris gasped with the same joking drama. He threatened me with a smirk, “I’m telling him you said that!”

“Christopher, do not!” I smacked his arm with a laugh. “But it is out there now. The internet knows so, he’ll know.”

“He knows about this comparison of my torso to a Dorito,” Chris chuckled. “So, he’ll for sure know you’re in love with him.”

“Greaaat,” the sarcasm was evident in my voice.

“I think that’s all for that game,” the interviewer said, smirking at us.

“Well, thank God,” Chris said sarcastically, “I have half a mind to stop our friendship now that I know you like Iron Man more than me.”

I stuck my tongue out at him.

“So you two are very good friends, it seems.”

“Yeah,” I said as Chris nodded, twirling one of my curls. I smacked his hand away as he rolled his eyes.

“Well, what’s it like to make out Captain America?” the interviewer asked. She was not going to let this one go, it seemed. I thought for a moment, deciding to go the funny way instead of the serious, deflecting way Chris had.

“I’m thinking it’s akin to fireworks on the fourth of July. Very patriotic, that’s for sure,” I giggled. “I swore I heard a bald eagle cawing in the distance the first time our lips met. I mean, God bless America.”

Chris blushed, his face red and he ducked his head. “I think that description is good enough!”

“Well, that was a better answer than I’d hoped for,” the interviewer smiled. “That’s all, I believe.”

——————

After the first interview, most of them were easy. Even when Chris and I had to split up, I was managing. It was tough, but I was getting used to it. I needed to get used to it. And I couldn’t focus on Chris helping me because he wasn’t going to be there all the time.

I needed to stop thinking about that.

At around four pm, we got out of the studio. Jane told me that I would be meeting Chris and Scott for dinner in an hour. She also mentioned that outings with Chris were encouraged only if planned by her and his manager. I think that was her way of saying “Don’t fuck him. We’re just having you guys out together for publicity.”

Fair enough, I guess.

Anyway, here I was, sitting across Chris at this table like we were on a date.

Except for Scott, who was sitting in between us, eating noisily. The guy was sucking the bones dry from his ‘chicken feet.’ I think Scott was doing it on purpose. You know, just to fuck with me. It was working.

“Scott, do you want me to call Ma and tell her about your lack of manners?” Chris was side-eying him as he ate his dumplings.

“Mm? No, I’m good,” Scott winked at him before turning to me. “So, Sim, what do you want to do tonight?”

“What?” I stopped pecking at my fried rice to look up at him.

“You want to come over or do you want us to come over?” Chris clarified hesitantly before adding, “Or if you’re tired, just go to bed.”

“Uhh,” I eloquently said as I weighed the options.

“Sim, you’re gonna come over,” Scott rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna choose a movie and then you can get your ass to bed after that.”

“Scott, don’t decide for her,” Chris admonished his brother.

“It’s fine, that’s cool with me,” I nodded.

“Perfect!” Scott clapped his hands together with a grin.

Well. Hopefully he wasn’t going to fuck me over.

——————

Scott was fucking me over.

When we settled in after the long day, I had expected a comedy or an action movie. Even a romance movie would’ve been understandable if Scott wanted to fuck me over on purpose. But he picked a horror movie.

Scott wasn’t trying to fuck me over on purpose, but he was totally fucking me over.

I absolutely hated scary movies. Jump scares were the bane of my existence.

I should’ve realized Scott’s cackling was never a good sign (in the few days I’d known him,). He turned off the lights and jumped on the couch excitedly. I snuggled into my blanket and thought nothing of it. I really needed to pay more attention

Chris grabbed the remote and pressed play. However, when the words ‘THE GRUDGE’ showed up on the screen, I threw my blanket off myself and stood up. Chris pressed the pause button immediately and looked up at me with worry.

“Scott Andrew Evans, you got me fucked up if you think I’m gonna sit here and watch this shit,” I said, turning to the smirking idiot next to me with my hands on my hips. I tried to look menacing, I really did.

“What’s wrong with a scary movie?” he asked. I was about to kill him. Or seriously injure him. Or just scream.

“Scott, we shouldn’t watch it,” Chris agreed. “Not if Simran’s scared.”

“Well, yeah,” Scott said with a twinkle in his eye. “I guess we won’t, if Simran’s too scared.”

I made an offended noise as Scott snickered.

See, this is a bad thing about me. A really bad thing. I’m always gonna try to prove everyone wrong. Yeah, I’m scared. Hell yeah, I’m a big fucking ‘fraidy cat. But the minute someone says I’m scared, I’m suddenly going to say I’m not.

It’s a fatal flaw of mine — my hamartia, if you will.

“Fuck you, Evans,” I said as I plopped back down on the couch. “We’re watching this stupid ass movie. I’m not fucking scared, I just think it’s gonna be boring.”

Chris shifted uncomfortably, probably since he didn’t know who I was talking to. Fuck, I didn’t even know who I was talking to. 70% Scott, 30% Chris. If Chris shot me those puppy dog eyes one more time, he’d be down to 15%. 

“I’m not fucking scared, play the damn movie,” I mumbled, bringing the blanket up around my shoulders this time.

“You sure?” Scott said and this time, I shot him a ‘bitch please’ look. He raised his eyebrows at Chris, who in turn, shrugged and pressed play again.

I did my best not to jump or cover my face or scream or even talk during the movie, which was totally uncharacteristic of me. To be honest, I was pretty damn proud of myself. I mean, I was totally not sleeping for the next few nights but I was still proud.

By the end of the movie, I was almost curled into Chris’ chest.

When it was done, I stood up and stretched, fake yawning. “That was boring. Told ya I wasn’t scared.”

I was lying through my teeth but I think I seemed convincing.

“I guess you’re right,” Scott said, with a sigh. “Now, we should really sleep. Chris has that FILA promo tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I got some photoshoot,” I replied, walking to the door. “I think for H&M again.”

“Well,” Chris said as he walked behind me. “I hope you sleep well.”

I turned back to him and nodded, “Thanks Chris, I hope you do too.”

When I crossed to my room, I kept my lights on and tried to sleep. After an hour of tossing and turning, I gave up. I was tired, but the idea that the girl from The Grudge was going to pop out scared me too much.

I stared at my phone and debated if I should send Chris a text or not. He probably wouldn’t read it till the morning, but it could make me feel a bit better.

Why does your brother want me dead?

Chris replied shortly after. 

Capsicle:

Are you okay? Do you need anything?

I sighed, running a hand over my face.

I’m fine but I’m not sleeping tonight, lol. That shit was actually scary af.

Capsicle:

:( Open your door?

Holy shit, he was not outside my door right now. Holy fucking shit. A small, hesitant knock made me jump out of bed before I realized I probably seemed too eager. I slowed my walk and took a few breaths before opening the door.

He looked absolutely heartbreaking in a t-shirt and sweatpants. “You sounded like you needed company.”

I opened the door more and stepped to the side, allowing him to come in. “I’m not a child, Christopher.”

“Hey, I know,” Chris said, raising his hands in surrender as he sat in the chair next to my bed.

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” I said, crossing my arms and moving closer to him.

“I know that too,” Chris replied, trying to catch my eye. When he did, he gave me a small smile.

I deflated instantly, “I’m sorry. I am a baby about scary movies. But I wanted to prove Scott wrong.”

He nodded in understanding. “Don’t worry about it. If it makes you feel any better, I jumped at some parts.”

I cracked a smile at his admission. “I did notice that. I guess that does help.”

“You did great today, you know,” Chris gave me a dazzling smile that stunned me. “I was so proud. You were calm and cool.”

“Thanks,” I said, biting my lip to hide a smile.

“You need sleep,” Chris told me.

“So do you,” I shot back.

“I’ll sleep when you do,” he replied before pointing to my bed. “Get in.”

I shivered at his ‘no-nonsense’ voice, imagining what other orders he could give me. Then I told myself to shut the fuck up and stop being so horny.

I pouted and threw the blanket over my head. Chris laughed and I giggled underneath the sheets, remaining there. I did feel tired as hell, however. If Chris was quiet for too long, I’d probably end up falling asleep under there.

But after some silence, Chris spoke again. “So, there is an ulterior motive to me coming here.”

That’s interesting. I peeked at him through my blanket.

He waited for me to say something but when I didn’t, he continued, “I need some advice.”

“Oooh, on what?” I asked, intrigued albeit tired. What could he possibly need advice on?

He twiddled with his thumbs. “If a woman says ‘I think we should take another break,’ should I fight her on it or just give her space?”

Well, that hit me out of nowhere. It wasn’t really nowhere, I knew he had something going on with someone. The man looked like a fucking God, of course he was dating someone. I didn’t even understand why it hurt. It just did.

“Um, well, I guess,” I tried to make sure my voice didn’t go any higher than normal. I racked my brain as I thought of how to maintain objectivity. “The key word here is ‘another.’ You guys have been together before?”

“Yeah,” Chris sighed heavily before glancing back at me. “We’ve been on again, off again for a while.”

“Well, do you want to fight her on it?” I asked.

I tried to convince myself it was to dig up more information. Really it was more like digging up a hole for me to die in. Goddamn it.

I was such a masochist for asking these questions.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, uncomfortable and running his hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if I want this break to even happen or if I want it to be permanent.”

I whistled. “That sounds like it needs to happen. You guys might need some time to recollect and decide where you want to be.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Chris said with a far-away look. “I don’t even know if I really want to be with her or if I just like familiarity.”

“Familiarity?” I furrowed my eyebrows as I repeated the word. I was sleepy but I needed to stay up and help him. At least for a few more minutes.

“I don’t know,” he said, sounding a lot less composed than I’d ever heard him. “I’m sorry for pushing this on you. It’s my own bullshit and I shouldn’t have made you involved in it.”

“Please, Christopher, asking me a simple question isn’t involving me,” I waved away his apology, trying to make him relaxed again. I yawned involuntarily but tried to fight the sleep.

“I-I just, I’m confused, you know,” he whispered, leaning forward in his chair as he put his elbows on his thighs. “Like, I don’t know if I’m romanticizing the relationship or if I’m just worried about getting old or what’s wrong with me.”

“You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you should just sleep on it,” I shrugged, trying remain calm for him. Chris snorted.

“Of course you think that, sleepy head,” he replied, his tone was considerably lighter.

“Fuck off, asshole,” I mumbled, pulling the blankets up to my neck and straining to stay up. “Actually don’t, I’m still a little scared.”

“I’ll stay here till you sleep, Sim,” Chris chuckled, leaning over and brushing my hair out of my face. I leaned into his hand instinctually. He hummed and gave me a small smile, “Goodnight, honey.”

I was ashamed that I fell asleep so easily after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simran’s outfit: http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=182835977


	15. Chapter Fifteen

I was convinced Chris told me about his relationship troubles last night because today we wouldn’t be seeing each other. He knew we would be too busy to see each other today and had no interviews until tomorrow.

That was some strategic fucking planning. That was some Captain America strategy shit right there. I had to say he was a smart man.

To say the least, the day went by slow. I was at the photoshoot for four hours and I hated every minute of it. It was all uncomfortable poses and editorial looks. But hey, more exposure was always good. On the bright side, I met a Victoria’s Secret model. Like, who can say they’ve met a Victoria’s Secret model? I can, that’s who.

I talked to Scott in the elevator on my way back to my room at the end of the day. He told me Chris wasn’t going to be back till another hour and asked what happened in my room last night. Of course, Scott concluded that we had sex.

“We didn’t fuck,” I deadpanned, grateful that we were the only ones in the elevator.

“Oh? Well, Chris was all sorts of jumpy when he came back,” Scott replied. “What’d you guys talk about?”

I hesitated, before deciding not to mention his relationship. It wasn’t my place to talk about it. I smirked at him, “He was scared the girl from The Grudge was gonna get him.”

Scott snorted. “And you weren’t?”

“Nope,” I popped the ‘p’ as the elevator doors opened. Scott followed me out and we walked down the hallway, me trudging along in front of him, in some silence.

“I know he asked about his girl troubles,” he said, suddenly, from behind me.

I stopped abruptly and he ran into me, apologizing softly. I didn’t care about him running into me because I was stuck on what he said. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Scott let me pine after Chris. He let me talk about how much I liked him and didn’t care to mention that he was already spoken for.

“You knew?”

“It’s not even really girl troubles,” Scott said with a light tone, lifting a shoulder up. I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for him to continue. He sighed heavily as he started walking again. “Let’s talk about this privately.”

I followed him to his room, all the while still glaring at his back. “I can’t believe you.”

He opened the door and let me in first. I walked straight into the room and sat on the couch, still stewing in my annoyance. I felt humiliated. He paced in front of the TV, thinking of what to say.

“Okay, so, Chris has this thing with someone,” Scott paused, deciding what he should and shouldn’t say. He shrugged his shoulders and decided to say who, “With Minka Kelly, you know, the girl from Friday Night Lights.”

“I saw those pap pictures,” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. “You didn’t think to tell me that while I was pining after your fucking brother?”

“It’s not even really a thing,” Scott protested, still pacing. “He’s just stuck on her because he has history with her. He always fucking does this! He gets scared by new people and goes right back to the old.”

“So what is this ‘thing’ then — or rather what is this ‘not really a thing’ thing?” I asked. “And I can’t believe you, a 31 year old man, are talking about ‘things.’ Is this fucking high school?”

“I’m 32 in a week, Sim,” Scott scoffed before contemplating what to say. “Okay, so Chris hasn’t been exclusive with her in years. She gets him for publicity sometimes, he gets laid. Well, I mean, she gets laid too. They just fuck each other for mutual benefit. It hasn’t been about love for years.”

“Fun.”

“Right, so, Chris is an idiot. Like, he’s 34 but he’s still, like, in his fucking 20s. I don’t know how to explain it,” Scott sighed, stopping his pacing and glancing at me. “He sucks at relationships.”

“Okay, I guess I gathered that,” I raised my eyebrows at him expectantly.

“Minka wants a relationship with this new guy and she wants to stop this arrangement or whatever. Chris didn’t even care about Minka before but the minute he’s losing her, he wants her,” Scott explained. “I think it’s because everyone around him is getting married and having kids. He’s getting desperate. He thinks since she’s been with him before, they have a chance.”

“That’s— Wow, that’s a lot to take in.”

“I know.”

“So, did she actually say she wanted a break or did she want to break things off permanently?” I asked, recalling all the things Chris had said last night.

“Chris only told me that she said she wanted a break,” Scott clarified. “But I think she’s just trying to let him off easy.”

“Chris said he didn’t know if he wanted the break or not. He worried that he was romanticizing the relationship and that he was just doing this because he was getting old,” I admitted, remembering key words from the conversation. “And he also said he doesn’t know if he likes her or if it’s the familiarity.”

“His dumb ass always talks about ‘history and familiarity,’” Scott deepened his voice to try to sound like his brother before chuckling, “At least he’s more self-aware than I gave him credit for.”

“That’s true,” I nodded, biting my lip.

This sucked. This was a lot of information about Chris’ personal life that I didn’t get from him. I felt like I was intruding but at the same time, I felt like lecturing him on his love life. I had no right to, it’s not like I had a much better love life. My longest relationship had been half a year and that was mostly long distance.

“What do you think Chris should do?” Scott said softly as he sat next to me on the couch. He put an arm around me and waited patiently for my reply.

“Uhhh, I think he should fuck me,” I cracked a smile at him when he laughed. “Not really. I think he just either needs to not be in a relationship at all or find someone new.”

“Hmm, someone new, huh?” Scott pretended to think for a minute before snapping his fingers. “I have just the girl. She’s Indian, about this tall,” he held his hand a foot off the ground and I smacked his arm. “Has a hot best friend I boned. Has another best friend who gave me the most intense shovel talk of my entire life. Got two sweet, adorable little sisters.”

“She’s also 11 years younger,” I added with an eye roll.

“She’s still more mature than my brother,” Scott replied. 

“She’s not even going to think about any kind of thing with him unless he expresses some interest.”

“Simran, you’re blind!” Scott shook me with the arm he had still around me. “The man flirts with you every chance he gets!”

“He’s naturally flirty!”

“That’s not— Well, okay, that’s true but I’ve seen Chris flirt with just anyone and I’ve seen Chris flirt with someone he wants,” Scott said, removing his arm from around me and throwing his hands up in exasperation. “And, trust me, he’s been flirting with you like— like some metaphor I can’t think of at the moment.”

“I honestly doubt that’s true, Scott,” I sighed, sitting back on the couch. “I’m not his type.”

“Chris doesn’t really have a type,” Scott disagreed before adding, “Other than dark haired women with nice asses. Sounds like you.”

“Not really convincing.”

“He smiles a lot when he’s around you. Like, a lot.”

“You’re kind of reaching there, buddy,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I think we’re just good friends.”

“I am not,” he giggled, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “I know my brother and you’d be perfect for him. You two are so not friends. There is sexual tension all around.”

“I don’t want to ruin a perfectly good friendship over speculation,” I said, chewing on my bottom lip. “I’m going to stay friends with him. I’m not going to be the one who approaches him. He’s the one with the girl troubles and the relationship hesitation and all that shit.”

“So, if I convinced him to make the first move…?” Scott trailed off, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“Do not convince him!” I shook my head quickly. “Just let him decide on his own. For now, we’re friends.”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“Stop trying to set us up,” I replied with the most serious tone I could muster. “If Chris wants me, he just needs to ask.”

“He’s so slow at this though,” he whined. “You guys won’t get together until he’s fucking 40 at this rate!”

“We’ll get together when we get together,” I shrugged before realizing my wording. It wasn’t like it was inevitable, not to me anyway. I corrected myself, “If we get together, I mean.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s a sure thing.”

At least Scott had faith because I sure as hell didn’t.

I left before Chris showed up, telling Scott some excuse about catching up on sleep. I guess I was avoiding Chris as much as he avoided me. He’d talk to me when he’d need to. If he wanted to talk to me at all, that is.

In the meantime, I showered and changed into sweatpants with a tank top. Suzy, the PA, called and told me that I had both lunch and dinner scheduled with Chris tomorrow. So, that’s great. Our avoiding each other was going to have to end soon.

In fact, I realized it was ending sooner than I expected when I heard a knock on the door. I opened it slightly, only showing my head. Chris was waiting with a huge smile on his stupid face, his hands behind his back.

“I got you Red Vines,” he said, bringing his hands in front of him and revealing a big pack of candy. “I remember you saying something like Twizzlers are the kiddy shit and that this is the good licorice.”

“Chris, what is this for?” I eyed him suspiciously but swiped the candy out of his hand anyway. I wasn’t going to deny myself some Red Vines. I stopped hiding behind the door as I tried to open the packaging.

“I wanted to say sorry for last night,” he admitted with a sigh. “I dumped a bunch of shit on you and then didn’t even see you all today.”

“Nah, you’re good,” I dismissed him as I started to chew on the candy. “Don’t worry about it.”

Chris bounced on his heels and looked around for a second. “D-Do you wanna watch The Office? I’m on the last episode of season two. Casino Night?”

“No way!” I fucking loved that episode. I grabbed the key card I had at the table next to my door and exited my room. “Let’s fucking go!”

He sent me (what I would call) a relieved smile and backed up to his own door. He turned and slid the key card into the slot before turning back, as if to make sure I was still there. I waved at him with licorice in hand. He gave me another smile.

“Scott, Sim’s gonna watch The Office with us so, stop whatever you’re watching,” Chris called out when he opened the door. I heard Scott reply with an exaggerated groan.

“It’s the best show ever and you know it!” I said as we walked in.

I was still holding the pack of Red Vines like it was a newborn child. I couldn’t believe he got me candy as a sorry over something so dismissible. What a fucking sweetheart. The gesture was more than any past boyfriends had done for me and we weren’t even together.

Chris was always making it a lot harder to try to stay friends.

When we sat on the couch, me in the middle once again, I tried not to rest on Chris this time. Knowing he was in some sort of weird relationship now (whether she wanted to break up with him or not) made me acutely aware how much we actually touched each other. He always had his arm around me or his hand in my hair. I always had my head on his shoulder or chest.

Basically, I needed to stop touching him so much. Which was hard, considering Chris was the most touchy person I knew.

“Pam and Jim are so cute, when are they going to be together?” Chris complained, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I shrugged with a grin, “Who says they’ll ever get together?”

“They would not be building this up so much if they weren’t getting together!”

“Maybe they’re just good friends,” I argued, even though I knew the answer. Jim and Pam would totally get together in the show and were probably the cutest couple on television. Chris, however, didn’t know that.

Scott snorted next to me, finding amusement in my statement. I looked back at him and glared, taking another Red Vine from the bag in my lap and eating it.

“They are not good friends, he’s admitted to having feelings for her,” Chris replied, keeping his eyes on the TV but frowning. “This is such a slow-burn. Why do writers want to kill us? We want them together, so get them together!”

“Oh Chris,” I started to say, patting his hand that was conveniently resting on my thigh.

See what I mean about how much we touched each other? I didn’t even realize he was touching me unless he stopped it! We were way too close.

“What?” he asked, waiting for me to finish my sentence.

I guess us touching had me too dumbfounded to complete my statement. I removed my hand from on top of his and gripped my Red Vines bag with both hands. There they were safe and sound where they wouldn’t be touching Chris.

“Um, you’ll just have to see,” I said, shifting in my seat to see if he would move his hand. He didn’t.

It was quiet again for a while, until Jim confessed to Pam he loved her.

“I knew it!” He shouted victoriously, pumping a fist into the air. I cleared my throat and motioned for him to keep watching. When Jim walked away, realizing Pam wasn’t going to leave her fiancé for him, Chris sighed. “Oh man.”

“Isn’t there like 7 more seasons after this?” Scott asked with a raised eyebrow. “They’ll get together, at some point. The actual question is how long they’re going to last.”

“You’ll see,” I waved him off, waiting for the end of the episode. When it happened, Chris did exactly as I expected.

“Oh my god, they kissed!” Chris exclaimed, gripping my thigh a bit harder in excitement. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

“Well, they did but what happens next?” I wiggled my eyebrows at him, taking another bite of my licorice.

“Next episode now!” he shouted urgently.

I giggled uncontrollably at his enthusiasm.

——————

The next day was the last day for me here. I had an interview with Chris, lunch with him, then another photoshoot, and dinner. Then, a flight out to LA tonight. My schedule was all set but I was sad that I wouldn’t be seeing Chris anymore.

The interviews had gone smoothly with the exception of one girl who kept flirting with Chris while I was there. Of course, he entertained her. Which was a whole other set of emotions. It was just fucking annoying. Other than that though, it was easy peasy lemon-squeasy.

Lunch was just us in the waiting room, eating anything off the food table with Scott. We talked about The Office and music and what movies I needed to watch when I got home. Chris asked about the girls and Scott asked about Marc. I talked to Char briefly on the phone to ask all these questions before I was called to leave for the photoshoot.

When I got to dinner, it was only Chris. Scott, apparently, was too tired to come out tonight. I knew he was just trying to be a sneak.

“You’re going home so soon,” Chris frowned, while we we got our food. “You were only here for like, three days!”

“You’re leaving tomorrow afternoon, it’s not like you were here much longer than me,” I shrugged, sipping on my soda. “Aren’t you going to Utah?”

“Yeah, for a Comic Con,” Chris sighed heavily, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m, uh, I’m a little nervous.”

“Why?” I asked, trying to keep the curiosity out of my voice.

He hadn’t talked much about his anxiety with me, apart from over text. But that wasn’t face-to-face and this was. I waited as he struggled to speak.

“It’s my first time meeting with fans in that kind of environment,” he managed to get out through his hands. “It’s just gonna be a lot of people and they’re all gonna expect stuff from me. They’re gonna comment a lot on my movies and how I look right now, which believe me, I know it’s a disappointment but it’s gonna—“

“Oh, shut up,” I scoffed before thinking of what I was saying. Chris removed his hands from his face to look at me. “You’re off season and you still look like a fucking Adonis.”

“Thank you,” he said simply. I could’ve sworn I saw the corner of his mouth twitch up in a small smirk but it happened so fast I wasn’t sure. He placed both his hands on front of him.

I cleared my throat, trying to forget how desperate I had just sounded. “But you’ll be okay. They love you.”

“I know, it’s just tough,” Chris agreed. “Being what they want you to be, but still being you.”

“Just be you,” I replied. “That’s who the true fans want you to be.”

He reached his hand across the table for mine, smiling warmly. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Anything for a bro,” I said, trying to remind both him and myself that we were friends.

Just friends. Just. Friends. FRIENDS. Friends, friends, friends. Ever hear a word so much, it doesn’t sound real anymore? That’s how the word ‘friends’ had become to me.

Friends was such a horrible word.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

I was laying in my hotel room bed on a particularly tiring night of shooting, facedown and exhausted, but unable to sleep. Thinking, thinking, thinking. I just kept thinking. I couldn’t stop fucking thinking! 

Life without Chris around 24/7 was decidedly boring. 

I wouldn’t admit it to anyone else (Ahem, Char or Marc or Scott or the girls — all were on my ass about him) but his hair pulling and unnecessary touching was sorely missed. The only thing that got me by was our texts, resumed full force. It was as if those two weeks together only strengthened the friendship(?) because now we talked even more. 

But I still worried that we weren’t friends.

Sure, I had a great time with him in September and that was all fantastic. But now it was late October (almost Halloween!) and I was filming in a beautifully cloudy Georgia. Recently, I’d found out from him that he was also filming in Georgia and we’d talked of going out. 

But I only had maybe ten days left of shooting and we’d still not seen each other. So maybe we really weren’t friends. Maybe it was one of those ‘Oh we should totally hang out’ but actually never do things. Maybe I had just been fooling myself and pushing myself on him. Maybe I’d just invited my way into his life, unwanted. Maybe—

I like big butts and I cannot lie

Barely shifting my face to the side, I grabbed the phone next to me. I swiped the answer button and pressed the phone to my ear without looking. I growled, “Archana, I swear to Vishnu, if you and Maya are—“

“You didn’t check caller ID?” his amused voice shot through my body like an earthquake.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” I quickly turned over onto my back, mouthing ‘idiot’ to myself repeatedly. 

“It’s all good,” Chris chuckled and I relished in the sound. I missed his voice. We rarely called each other ever, we were often too busy and texting was just so much easier. 

“May I ask why you’re calling?” I bit my lip, running a hand over my face. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Well, I was hoping you weren’t busy right now,” Chris replied and I could hear the smile in his voice. 

“I’m not, I just got done shooting for the night,” I instantly said, jumping at the chance to see him. I didn’t have to show up on set tomorrow, so it couldn’t have been more perfect.

I removed the phone from my ear to check the time. 8:33 PM. Not too late. 

“Where’s your hotel? I can have you picked up,” he said. 

I told him the address without hesitation. Then, I turned on speakerphone and set it on the nightstand, walking over to my suitcase to grab clothes. I needed to get changed and freshen up if we were going out.

“Where are we going?” I asked, but honestly I didn’t care. Seeing him was all that would matter.

“There’s this one little diner not too far from your hotel actually,” I could hear the nervousness in his voice. “I’m meeting a friend there, too.”

“Awesome,” I giggled as I grabbed a pair of jeans that didn’t look too dirty and stepped into them. “I can be ready in ten.”

“Good. I have another famous Chris that wants to meet you.”

Chris and I had had many discussions about how many people in the industry were named Chris. It was almost an inside joke for us. I giggled before realizing what he was saying. 

“Wait, what?”

“A famous Chris wants to meet you,” he repeated.

“Is he the friend you’re meeting?” I couldn’t understand why Chris would want me to come along. I wasn’t much to him. At least, I didn’t think so.

“Guess which one,” he replied with no pause.

“Well, does he have an Australian accent?” I furrowed my brows. 

“Nope. That handsome, handsome man is with his wife and kids.”

So, not Hemsworth.

“Is it Pratt?” 

“You got it on the second guess,” he laughed. “Yeah, he’s in town for a movie too.” 

“And I get to meet him?” My voice went up a higher pitch, the excitement in my voice evident. 

I threw on the Halloween themed flannel I bought a few years ago, one of my favorites.

“Duh,” Chris chuckled. “Perks of having a famous friend.”

“You’re not too bad, grandpa,” I giggled as I slipped on socks and my go-to black boots. 

“The car can pick you up at 9, if that’s okay with you,” he said. “What time do you need to get back by?”

“Eh, I don’t have to be on set tomorrow,” I admitted, looking at myself in the mirror to see what I fix in the next fifteen minutes.

My hair was a disaster, the curls from this morning were wild and messy. I sloppily made a bun on the top of my head, going for an effortless look but ending up with a homeless one.

“Good, I’m looking forward to seeing you,” Chris said. “Now, get ready, you got ten minutes.”

“Already on it, old man!” I teased, applying my concealer and dabbing it in. I could hear his laugh and smiled to myself.

“See you soon, Sim.” He hung up and I squealed for a full minute. 

Just minutes ago I had been wondering if I would even see him and now here he was calling me the second I had doubts. Was this a dream? I hoped not. 

The car arrived soon after and when I got to the diner, Chris was waiting for me by the door. He immediately greeted me with a hug, no words said. I wrapped my arms around his middle and his hand rubbed my back. The big goof was wearing a hat, a long sleeved black thermal shirt and blue jeans.

“Hey you,” I smiled when we pulled away, his hands still resting on my shoulders. 

He smelled better than I remembered. It was creepy to think that, but hey, he did smell delicious. 

“Hey Sim, I missed ya,” Chris smiled back, his eyes searching mine. Did I ever mention that his crow’s feet was the cutest thing to me? It was. 

“I missed you too,” I replied, biting my lip and looking away from his intense eyes. He led me inside the warm bar, not too crowded but filled with noise. 

When we got to his booth in the corner, Pratt immediately stood from his seat. “Hey there, I’m Chris!” 

Like I didn’t already fucking know. I could’ve snorted out loud but didn’t.

“Hey,” I waved, trying to remain as calm as possible while being polite. “I’m Simran.”

“Chris never stops talking about you,” he grinned, surprising me with a hug. I could feel Chris smacking Pratt on the arm but thought nothing of it. “She’s so much cuter than you said!”

“Shut up,” Chris laughed, smacking him a second time. We took our seats, Pratt immediately making me sit next to him. 

“He also told me you like Parks and Rec enough to re-watch it three times,” Pratt wiggled his eyebrows. “How’d you like that finale?”

“It was so good but I cried,” I raised my eyebrows and shook my head. “Cried so hard, man.”

Pratt and Evans looked at each other and laughed. Pratt put his arm around me and pulled me into a side hug. “I’m sorry!”

“No worries. To be fair, I cry at everything,” I giggled as he let go over. 

“So does Evans,” Pratt nodded over to the man in front of us. Chris ducked his head and laughed. The bill of his hat hid his face from me.

“Yeah, I do cry at everything,” he admitted with a shrug. “What can I say? I’m sensitive.”

“Did he ever tell you the story about me catching him crying over—“ Pratt was cut off by Evans’ loud laughter. Pratt started laughing as well, then tried to stop and continue the sentence, “He was crying over some fucking—“

“Fuck no!” Evans exclaimed, still laughing and holding his chest. 

I just looked back and forth between the two, waiting for Pratt to finish what he was saying. Obviously they’d already been drinking. Dorks.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Pratt finally said. “So, this was like what, four years ago? We’re filming for What’s Your Number, I don’t know if you’ve seen it—“

“Of course I’ve seen it, your wife is hot!”

“Hell yeah, she is!” Pratt agreed, bumping fists with me. “So I walk into his trailer and I thought I caught him watching porn or something, the guy closed his laptop so fucking quick—“

“I was fully clothed!” Evans protested. Pratt rolled his eyes.

“You can still masturbate full clothed,” I interjected.

“Yeah, what the lady said! Anyway, I look closer at him, and he’s got tears in his eyes. So I’m all worried now, I’m like ‘Chris, man, what’s wrong?’ and he’s snifflin’, he’s all, ‘Oh, it’s nothing’ and not looking at me. So I say, ‘Why you crying?’ and he looks so embarrassed. Like, so embarrassed, I cannot stress this enough—“

“I did not!”

“—You did though! I was convinced it was porn. To myself, I was like, ’It’s gotta be porn. Evans is straight-up crying over some fuckin’ porno.’ But he opens his laptop —which, mind you, freaked me out, I was not ready to watch some porn with him— and shows me what he’s actually watching. It’s literally some science documentary about the universe.”

“Wonders of the Universe,” Evans supplied with a small grin. 

“He was like, ‘It’s just so beautiful’,” Pratt made his voice fake-crack as he imitated Chris. I laughed at them, amused by this entire conversation. “Chris Evans was crying over some fucking stars.”

“That… is my new favorite thing about you,” I told Evans, a huge grin on my face. He stuck his tongue out at me.

“So you did watch the movie,” he said, recognizing the line. 

“Want a beer?” Pratt asked before grinning goofily at me. “You’re over 21, right?”

“Of course!” I glared at him, crossing my arms.

“Aw, you’re so cute, kiddo,” Pratt pat my head and I rolled my eyes at him.

“You guys are getting along swimmingly,” Evans laughed, taking a sip of his own beer as Pratt ordered a couple more.

When we got to drinking beer, we talked more and more.

“She’s so small, how do you not crush Sim, Chris?” Pratt exclaimed suddenly, looking at the Chris across from us. “We could squash her like a bug!”

“Please don’t,” I said half-joking. “I’d rather not die by being squashed between Star-Lord and Captain America.”

“She is so small,” Evans agreed, his cheeks a bit red. “Sim, you’re tiny.”

“I’m not that small,” I pouted, slouching slightly in my seat. Bitches. 

“You are though,” Evans giggled. “I wanna put you in my pocket and take you everywhere with me.”

“Aw, that’s adorable,” Pratt laughed, nudging me. “It’s adorable, isn’t it?”

“Ha, ha, so funny,” I said, taking another swig of my beer. “I’ll still beat you up.”

“How do you do that?” Evans ignored my (empty) threat, gesturing towards his eyes. I furrowed my brows, trying to think of what he could possibly be talking about. “Your makeup. It’s like art. How did you do that?”

“It’s called a cat eye. It’s just a black line on my eye, Christopher,” I shrugged, amused. Pratt guffawed, leaning his head back.

“She’s using full first name, bro,” Pratt said, pointing a finger at Evans who was also laughing.

“She always does, she never calls me Chris,” he pouted slightly before setting his eyes back on me. “Call me Chris, Sim!”

“I like calling you Christopher,” I said simply, taking another sip. I felt warm and nice, but not tipsy at all. 

“In bed!” Pratt cackled. Pratt moved his fist out, waiting for me to fist-bump him. I felt my face heat up as Evans watched me. I begrudgingly did fist-pump Pratt though. It was a burn, I had to admit. 

“Assholes,” I muttered to myself as they laughed some more together. 

Soon Pratt had to go, saying he had an early shoot in the morning and that sleeping for four hours was already gonna suck. Evans had asked me if I wanted to leave yet and I said I’d stay as long as he did. 

“Make sure Chris brings you along to hang outs more often,” Pratt told me with a grin.

“Eh, we’ll see,” I shrugged but had a smile on my face as well. “Don’t tell your wife I said she was hot, by the way. If I ever meet her, I can’t give her the impression that I have a crush on her. That’d just freak her out.”

“It won’t, she’ll love it!” Pratt insisted before adding sincerely, “It was so great meeting you, Simran.”

“It was so nice to meet you, too,” I responded. He gave me one last hug then said goodbye to Evans. 

“Want some food?” Chris asked after we waved off Pratt. We sat back in our original seats, across from each other. But, since we both apparently lacked manners, our elbows were on the table and we were leaning into each other.

We ordered — double cheeseburgers and fries. I, for one, was done drinking for the night and just wanted a milkshake. Chris thought that was a good idea and ordered two.

He bit into his burger and groaned exaggeratedly. 

It sent tingles down my spine, in the good way. Well, technically, the bad way since I shouldn’t be thinking of that way. Whatever, the groan sent tingles down my spine in the sexual way. You know, since I wanted to have sex with him.

“Tell me something weird you do,” Chris said after a minute of silence. I pressed my lips together and gave him a confused look. 

“Why? What the fuck?”

“I like knowing weird, quirky things that people do. That’s my weird thing,” he smirked, bobbing his head sarcastically. His eyes were light and mischievous. He was so cute when he was tipsy.

“I’m not—What?”

“Anything. I’m just curious.”

“Hmm,” I chewed on my food as I thought for a minute, deciding to humor him. “Once I get a good understanding of people, I separate them into cats and dogs.”

“Like, you categorize them by behavior?” he asked incredulously, taking a bite of his burger. He had maybe two bites left of his burger where I had still had at least half. Fuckin’ animal. (Get it? Heh).

“Yeah, like Char is a cat while Marc is a dog,” I bit my lip, deciphering his reaction. It wasn’t too weird but it was something I did do a lot. “Maya is a cat, or kitten, I guess. Archie is a dog.”

“What about me?” Chris asked, genuinely curious. 

“You’re a dog, a big puppy, really,” I admitted before eating some more. His eyes widened at my quick reply. 

“Yeah. I’m nothing like a cat,” Chris nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on his face. “What about yourself?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never decided,” I confessed, biting my lip harder than before.

Chris leaned back to look at me after he finished his burger. He crossed his arms, trying to seem serious, and looked up and down at me. 

“You are a…” his smile was growing with each word he said. I raised my eyebrows expectantly at him, waiting for him to tell me. “Cat.”

“Whaaaaaat? Why? How? What’s your reasoning?” I asked, shaking my head. I narrowed my eyes at him, “Don’t you hate cats?”

“I don’t hate cats,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I just prefer dogs, by a lot. Like, a lot.”

“Well, what’s your reasoning, grandpa?” I repeated, teasing him with another nickname. 

“You wanna go there?” Chris asked playfully. 

“Go ahead, old man,” I laughed, shoving some fries into my mouth to keep myself occupied.

“Well, for starters, you got cat-like eyes and what’d you call that makeup thing you did last night? A cat eye!” Chris said, popping a fry in his mouth and chewing for a moment. “And— and you purr, sometimes, like a kitten.”

My face heated up at that comment, so I looked away from him as I sipped on my milkshake. 

“Oh, and your hair, it frames your face like it’s a lion’s mane. Lions are cats, so,” Chris pursed his lips, trying to think some more. He smirked at me, “You snuggle into my chest like a little kitten.”

He was certainly tipsy.

“Oh God, shut up,” I giggled, self-consciously. I threw a french fry at him, which he easily caught in his mouth. That was hot. I don’t know how, but it was hot. “You gave that a lot of thought.”

“It’s a cool way to see people,” Chris shrugged. “I like that, I may have to start doing it myself.”

“Well, you’re certainly good at it,” I shook my head, trying not to read too much into what he said. He laughed and opened the lid of his milkshake. 

“Are you busy on Halloween?” he asked as he dipped a fry in his milkshake. I shook my head in disgust. He caught the expression and asked, “What?”

“You’re one of those people,” I shivered, watching him. 

He slowly put the fry in his mouth and chewed. If I wasn’t so disgusted, I would’ve been seduced by the way his lips and jaw moved. Regardless, I was still immediately turned on when he licked his lips to get the rest of the chocolate off of them. 

Chris chuckled and shook his head, knowing exactly what I was talking about. “You’re missing out. Now, answer my question!”

“We’re on set for the day but we get out early,” I shrugged after I gulped down some of my milkshake, no fries thank you very much. “I leave for LA the next day though.”

“November 1st?” he asked and I nodded. He frowned but quickly recovered, shooting me a grin. “Wanna go to a party anyway?”

“Is it a Halloween party? Like, dressing up and everything?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Like as his date? Nah, of course not.

“I mean, you don’t have to, but I think a lot of people are dressing up,” Chris said. 

“Oh, trust me, I love dressing up,” I said excitedly. “What do you think I should be?”

His smile was so wide, I wanted to smack it off his face. “A cat.”

——————

The next few days were quick. Shooting a movie was probably the most stressful thing I’d ever done, but it was also the most fun. I knew I had press interviews in January and February, but for now, I was done with the movie.

Before I knew it, I was ready for the party Chris told me about.

I didn't do choose the costume because he told me to. Nope, no I didn’t. I didn’t get cat ears because Chris said I should be a cat. I didn’t get liquid liner from the store to draw whiskers on myself for him. I did it because it was easy and I liked it. His opinion was not needed. 

To be honest, I was such a fucking liar.

He joked about it, but it was a good idea. I mean, easy, simple, and what a lot of girls dressed as? Yeah, maybe. But still, a pretty good idea. 

So, when I made those flicks of cat whiskers on my face and made a black nose on the tip of mine, I did it with confidence. Cat makeup was cute. Well. Hopefully I looked cute.

I applied my red lipstick liberally, getting just the effect I wanted. Shiny, ruby red lips. I fluffed my hair and flipped it over my shoulder, looking at myself in the mirror to make sure I looked okay. 

Looking at the time, I saw that Chris wouldn’t be here for another thirty minutes. In the mean time, I packed away everything for tomorrow. I had an afternoon flight and I was sure I’d probably be hungover tomorrow, so I was looking out for Future Me. I’d pat myself on the back later.

I got Chris’ text that he was here soon after I finished gathering everything. I steadied myself, reminding myself not to be nervous. It was just a stupid party. I wasn’t his date or anything. Chris and I were just friends. We could have some fun. 

Not the fun I wanted (the sexy kind of fun), but some kind of fun.

Anyway. I said fun way too many times in my head.

I saw him outside leaning against a black SUV. It was dark and the street lights barely let me see what he was wearing, but I was hoping he had on a costume. I didn’t want to like an some doofus walking in with him. He said he picked one but I feared he would just cop out and wear a Captain America T-shirt or something. 

Not that he wouldn’t look hot as fuck wearing that. 

When Chris spotted me, he held out his arms to hug me. I embraced him, feeling his warm body and letting out a small sigh. “I’m cold as fuck.”

“It’s 65 degrees,” he replied immediately and I didn’t need to see his face to know he was rolling his eyes like he did whenever I said I was cold. I eased out of his embrace and smacked his arm.

“Yeah, well, who’s the one wearing a jacket and who’s the one wearing fishnet stockings?” I mumbled as he opened the door for me. I got in and Chris quickly followed after. He closed the door and knocked on the partition to let the driver know it was okay to leave.

“You’re wearing fishnet stockings?!” He turned on his phone’s flashlight and pointed it at me as I put on my seatbelt. 

I shielded my eyes and pouted. “The fuck, Christopher?”

“Wow. You look… Nice.” Chris breathed out ignoring my obvious irritation. “Really nice.”

“Thanks?” I said, but it sounded more like a question. 

He was acting like he did at the bar when he told me I looked good. He seemed almost shy? But Chris wasn’t really the type to be that shy. So, maybe I was misreading his behavior.

“You’re a cat?” He laughed, sounding a little out of breath. “I love it!”

I turned on my own phone’s flashlight and took a look at him. He flinched at the light as well and I laughed before taking a closer look at him.

He was wearing a white collared shirt, skinny black tie, black jeans, and a leather jacket. I almost had a heart attack because he looked so fucking good. It was unfair. 

“What even are you?!” I asked, frustrated that he looked handsome with such little effort.

“Vampire,” he grinned, grabbing my wrist and making the light point at his face. I raised my eyebrows when I could see the fake blood smeared across his mouth and beard. The color resembled the red on my own lips. 

“You stole my lip color,” I teased. If some random person looked at us, it would appear as if we’d been making out and he got my lipstick all over his beard. We knew that wasn’t the case, but everyone else didn’t. 

I removed my wrist from his grasp and tried not to focus on how warm his hand had been. I turned off my flashlight and stashed my phone back into my purse (I brought one this time because I was not gonna be without all my stuff ever again). 

Chris leaned in closer, lifting my chin with one finger. He probably couldn’t see very well without our lights on but the light from the streets outside were enough apparently. He flashed an amused smirk and said, “Eh, it’s not your color.”

“Wait, really?” I asked as he pulled back from me. He said it jokingly but if this really wasn’t my color, I didn’t want to look like a fucking idiot. “Should I wipe it off?”

“What, no? I’m joking, Sim,” he said quickly. “Relax, honey.”

“Sorry,” I shrugged. 

“No need to apologize,” Chris said, I could hear the frown in his voice. “It’s totally your color. You look great. Fantastic. Superb!”

“You don’t need to list off all those words you barely know, Christopher,” I sassed, bumping shoulders with him. He chuckled, his body shaking next to me.

“We dancin’ tonight?” his voice was so cute and hopeful, I wanted to punch myself in the face.

“You gotta put a few drinks in me first,” I sighed. Who was I kidding? I’d do anything he asked me to, I didn’t need alcohol to make that stupid decision. 

Before I knew it, we were at the party. 

Thankfully, my costume didn't put me out of place in the crowd. Many, many people went all out and looked good. There was a huge dance floor filled with people and many couches where people were talking, kissing, drinking. 

“What do you want to drink?” He asked, placing his hand on the small of my back and moving me towards the bar.

“I want to try a White Russian,” I said eagerly. “I love coffee flavored alcohol.”

“Oh Sim, so young,” Chris teased. “Sweet cocktails aren’t very alcoholic.”

“It’s still alcohol,” I responded firmly. “I need something sweet. It’s Halloween and I don’t get candy. At least I have this.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Besides, I’m an adult who can choose what I wanna drink, grandpa.” 

“Do I look like a grandpa?” he asked, furrowing his brows. 

“Yup,” I poked his chest jokingly. I shouldn’t have, it was warm and pillowy but still firm. God, I loved his chest. “Now let’s get me wasted.”

Two and a half White Russians later, I had to pee and Chris was talking to some buddies he had introduced me to. I cleared my throat, enough to let him catch my eye, and nodded towards the bathroom to let him know where I was going.

I did my business and checked my makeup, reapplying my fading lipstick before going back outside. Without looking, I bumped into some guy who was exiting the men’s bathroom. I recognized him as one of the friends we’d had been talking to.

He was dressed as a pirate, equipped with an eyepatch and a fake bird glued to his shoulder. 

“Hey, you’re Chris’ girl right?” he asked, jabbing a thumb in the direction Chris was. 

“Oh hey,” I searched my mind for his name, barely remembering since I really only paid attention to Chris. “…Louis. No, I’m just his friend.”

“Same difference,” Louis shrugged. “He fucks all his friends.”

“Not me,” I raised an eyebrow at him, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. “He fucks his friends? That mean he fucked you too?”

To my surprise, he pushed the eyepatch up his forehead and laughed. “You’re a mouthy one. No wonder he likes you.”

“Chris and I are just friends. Just like you and him are,” I replied, looking over my shoulder to see where the subject we were talking about was. Chris spotted me and waved, his face expressing confusion. I smiled back and nodded.

“Sure you are,” Louis smirked at me as I turned back to look at him. “If you guys aren’t fucking, you wanna dance?”

“Well, I should probably get back to—“

“Chris,” he finished, his smirk still in place. I knew dancing with him would be dumb, but I wanted to prove that I wasn’t with Chris. I mean, I wish I was tapping that, but seriously?

“You know what? Fine, one dance,” I shrugged. No harm in that. “Come on, let’s go.”

Louis pushed his eyepatch down in place and gestured out towards the dance floor, “Lead the way, kitten.”

I sneered at the pet (lmao, nice pun, Sim) name and walked to the floor without a second glance. On the dance floor, he was less annoying and nicer. I wouldn’t give him another dance, ew no, but he seemed okay.

When the song ended, he kept his hands on my hips and spoke in my ear, “We should probably get back to your boy, he’s looking like he’s gonna drain someone’s blood.”

“Hardy har har,” I sarcastically laughed, walking past him to get to where Chris was.

Okay, so, maybe Louis was right. Chris did look like he was going to kill someone. He sent me a strained smile on his face when I got closer to him but he almost looked predatorily. The vamp makeup was really adding to it.

“I thought you went to the bathroom,” he said abruptly, pulling out of the conversation with his friends, other friends, to speak to me. We moved farther away from them and closer to the bar. 

“I did, and then Louis asked to me to dance so we did,” I shrugged. 

“Oh,” was all I got from him after that. He polished off his beer and turned to the bartender. “Can I get some whiskey?”

“Whiskey?” I asked, trying to keep the concern out of my voice. “You okay?”

“Just fine,” he shrugged, but his nostrils flared when he said so.

“You wanna dance after you finish that?”

“You wanna dance with me now?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“I don’t know, why would you?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

“Just like Louis is your friend?” Chris asked and there was something in his voice I couldn’t understand. He received a glass from the bartender and muttered a ‘thanks.’

“I don’t even really know Louis. But he asked, so I did,” I repeated as Chris took a big gulp of his drink, staining it red from his fake blood. “I’m nice like that.”

If I was more sober, I’d probably think Chris was jealous. But he couldn’t be. We were friends! I didn’t know his current relationship status but either way, we were just good buddies. 

“Nice like that,” Chris muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair and finishing off his whiskey. “Did he say anything to you?”

“Not really?” 

“Okay. Because he’s kind of a jerk to any of my friends that are girls.”

“I gathered that,” I said, amused at his explanation. 

He deflated from whatever weird mood he’d been in for the past three minutes and smiled tentatively at me. His cheeks were red and he still looked a little annoyed but he grabbed my hand and it felt nice. I was a sucker for hand holding. “Still wanna dance?”

“Sure,” I smiled. “I’m not gonna get tired like you, you senior citizen.”

“I never get tired,” Chris flashed me a grin as he reassured me, “I have great stamina.”

Why, God? Why did he have to say things like that?

We danced until we sweat and then we danced some more. His smile was so bright that I couldn’t take my eyes off him majority of the time.

Soon though, I realized I should’ve probably gone home a few hours ago. I wasn’t complaining though, I had missed Chris so much that I would gladly lose sleep over seeing him. 

We left the party around 1 AM and since I fell asleep in the SUV, snuggled up to his amazing chest, we got to my hotel fairly quickly.

I woke up to him running his fingers through my hair and his leather jacket wrapped around me.

“Shit, sorry,” I mumbled, my eyes still closed. “I guess I do snuggle up to you like a cat.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckled lowly. “Come on, let’s get you to your bed.”

“Let’s get you to my bed,” I murmured without thinking, opening one of my eyes to look at him. He laughed but said nothing. Sober Me would be very disappointed in Drunk Me’s actions right now. 

Chris was telling the driver to wait here and opening his door but I stayed in my seat, pouting. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“My legs aren’t workin’,” I replied dramatically as I slipped on his leather jacket. “I’m too drunk to walk.”

“Sim,” Chris chided, amused. He got out of the car and stared me down intensely. “What do I have to do?”

I shrugged but Chris just gave me a grin. He turned around and crouched, “Hop on.”

I squealed, “Piggy back ride?!”

“Get on before I regret this decision,” he giggled. It was the cutest thing.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” I said, stepping out of the car and climbing on to him. Not the kind of climbing I wanted to do, but actual climbing. Dear God, his back was just as nice as his chest. His hands were resting on my thighs and I wanted to melt right into him. Jesus Christ, how was I still alive?

“I did have to tell you twice,” Chris corrected me as I shut the car door for him. 

“Smartass.”

The lobby of the hotel was dead, apart from the desk clerk so we got to the elevator without only one person looking at us weirdly. I pressed the button for my floor and sighed into his neck as the doors closed. He shivered, rubbing twin circles on my thighs with his hands. 

On the ride up the fourteen floors, he babbled on about plans for the next month, telling me how he’d be in LA before Thanksgiving and to text him when I was free. 

I could feel the vibrations in his body when I pressed my forehead against his neck. He was warm and perfect and smelled so nice and I wanted him to come to bed with me. 

Bad Simran. Stop it.

“What’s your room number?” Chris asked when the elevator doors opened. I pointed to the right and he did as told, walking quietly. We got to my room in record time and I was hopping off of his back faster than I’d have liked.

“Did I break your back, old man?” I asked, taking my key out of my purse and grinning at him. 

“Takes a lot more than that to break my back,” Chris rolled his eyes with a smile. He paused for a moment, just looking at me. “I guess this is goodbye.”

I nodded, chewing on my bottom lip, “For now.”

“Say hi to everyone for me?” He asked, tilting his head as I handed him back his jacket. 

“Of course.”

“Don’t have too much fun without me?”

“Can’t promise that,” I sassed. 

Chris smiled as he put on the jacket but then looked at me more meaningfully. “I’ll miss you.”

“I miss you already, bro,” I said, wrapping my arms around his middle. He exhaled slowly and put his own huge arms around me.

He pulled away and looked down at me. I gave him another encouraging smile, confused as to why he was acting like this. He leaned down, getting to my level and looked into my eyes. His were such a deep blue, like the Pacific O—

Oh my god, he was kissing me. His full lips pressed against mine and my eyes closed on their own accord. Previously frozen in place, the alcohol in my system gave me enough courage to kiss back.

Chris cupped my face with one hand, holding my waist with the other to push me against my room door. I let out a small, shaky moan before I felt him stiffen. He pulled away, slowly opening his eyes and keeping his nose against mine. He sighed once, rubbed his thumb on my cheek and then walked away.

I was too frozen in place again to move. I stayed against my door, looking up at the ceiling in confusion. When I heard him get into the elevator, I swore under my breath and got into my room. I tried to make sense of what happened.

Maybe I just imagined it? I was pretty drunk. Probably just dreamed it or something. Hopefully.

After peeling off my dress, stockings and heels, I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

Drunk Me was an idiot. It certainly wasn’t imagined. His fake blood was all over my chin and mouth.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting going, guys. ;)
> 
> Bar: http://www.polyvore.com/georgia_bar/set?id=184203125  
> Halloween Party: http://www.polyvore.com/halloween/set?id=184205900  
>  Chris’ Halloween outfit (honestly look at him, what a fuckin’ babe): http://photos.laineygossip.com/articles/chris-evans-take-back-31mar14-01.jpg  
> http://media.gettyimages.com/photos/actor-chris-evans-leaves-the-good-morning-america-taping-at-the-abc-picture-id481747943


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason this fic is labeled as 'explicit.'

It’d been three weeks and I still couldn’t forget it.

That kiss had to be a dream. It just had to have been. I was just too drunk and too stupid to realize it wasn’t real. Chris hadn’t mentioned it at all. 

The day after it happened, on my plane ride to LA, he sent me a picture of a Dalmatian puppy he saw on the sidewalk and said “I still want a puppy”, so… 

So, I had to be delusional. It didn’t happen. 

Only, it did happen. I know it did. I could still remember. It was warm and sweet and perfect. 

The reason Chris walked away was probably because he realized he was just trying to settle for me. I had it all figured out. Chris was probably just sad about his relationship and wanted someone’s company. I bet my kissing skills just sucked (he fucking surprised me, okay?) and he was like, “Nah, better find someone else.”

I know I sounded crazy. Thinking about it for three weeks with no real explanation would do that to you.

I told Char about it at lunch two days after I came back. We were just eating our sushi at our favorite restaurant and suddenly, I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“Chriskissedme,” I said quickly, interrupting Char’s speech about how much she hated chopsticks. 

“What? Breathe. Repeat it slower,” she said, setting down the chopsticks she had just been insulting. “Tell me what happened.”

“I told you we went to the Halloween party, right?”

She nodded.

“Well, he kissed me when he dropped me off at my hotel,” I said, picking apart my Alaska roll with my chopsticks. I was going to regret that later when I actually wanted to eat it.

“He kissed you and…?”

“And then he left,” I shrugged, still not meeting her eyes.

“He just left?” Char crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “I would like a few words with the asshole.”

“Char, I’m sure it was because he regretted it,” I waved her off, now thinking I shouldn’t have brought it up. Char was quite the momma bear.

“Regret kissing you? Puh-lease,” she scoffed.

“No, really,” I insisted. “He texts me like normal and hasn’t mentioned it.”

“I would like a few words with the asshole,” Char repeated, her scowl deepening. 

“Char, I told you this to just say it,” I replied. “Not because I want you to defend my honor.”

“Doesn't mean that it won’t happen,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “I’ll kick Captain America’s ass for you, Sim, and don’t you forget it.”

“That’s why you’re my best friend,” I cooed, sipping on my soda.

“Damn straight,” Char nodded proudly. “Have you tell Marc yet or should I?”

“Marc will just convince me it was because Chris was confused or something,” I wrinkled my nose. “Besides, he’ll bring Scott into it and Scott’ll bring Chris and then I’ll actually have to confront things. So, no thank you.”

“Sim,” Char’s voice softened. “Maybe Chris is confused. I mean, I’ll still kick his ass for it, but didn’t you say he got out of a relationship recently?”

“It wasn’t even really a relationship and I don’t even know if they’re really out of it,” I sighed. “He hasn’t said anything about it.”

“Which is why we're grilling Scott on this matter,” Char grinned wickedly. “I already terrify him, so we can use that our advantage.” 

“You really didn’t have to give him such an intense shovel talk,” I laughed. “Chris didn’t even scare Marc much.”

“That’s cause Chris walked in on them fucking,” she smirked. “Plus, the man looks like sunshine and golden retrievers, how could he ever be scary?”

“That’s the best description of him ever,” I nodded in appreciation. “You have such a way with words, Charlotte.”

“Oh shut up and eat your sushi, Simran.”

She told me we’d talk more about it later, but I’d avoided the topic since then. I mean, it happened three weeks ago. Maybe he just wanted to forget about it forever.

Besides, I’d rather just let it sit and stew in my head. And I did until he texted me again.

It was a Sunday morning in November, I had a meeting with Lorena at noon and nothing had been out of the ordinary. I mean, apart from me being up so early. But that was for my meeting and to go to the gym.

I was on the couch watching TV with Archie when I got the message.

8:43 AM Capsicle:

Hey, are you still in LA?

I waited for a few minutes, my mind thinking of the many different ways this conversation could go. Not wanting to seem like I wanted to climb him like a tree, I went with the simple answer.

Yeah, I am. What’s up?

8:51 AM Capsicle:

Do you want to meet up tonight? 

I squealed. Archie looked at me but I shot a smile, trying to seem normal. She raised her eyebrow at me and turned back to the TV. I don’t think she cared enough to prod right now.

Sure. Where?

8:54 AM Capsicle: 

Do you remember where I live? I’d say we could go out but I don’t want to deal with any pap. :(

I felt awkward talking to Chris next to my sister, so I tried to think of some excuse to get off the couch.

“Arch, you want some tea?” I asked casually.

“Sure, thanks,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the TV. 

Sighing to myself, I got up and walked into the kitchen to make some chai. I put hot water in the pot and replied to Chris.

No problem, what time do you want me over?

8:59 AM Capsicle:

Is 7 good? I can order in and we can watch The Office. I’m on season 4 now.

Marc was taking the girls out tonight with Scott, so I could leave the house without worrying about the girls. But I thought about what to say, anyway. In the meantime, I added in the Chai tea leaves and other spices before waiting for the tea to boil again.

That’s good with me. Also, yaaaas, I love season 4. See ya then.

Not expecting a reply, I poured milk into the tea and fished out two cups from the cupboard. I called out, “Archie, how much sugar do you want?”

“Two teaspoons, please,” She shouted back. 

9:05 AM Capsicle:

Can’t wait.

Those two words always made me feel so special.

“Your tea is ready,” I said to Archie as Maya bounded out of her room. I put Archie’s cup down but looked at the expectant Maya.

“Do I get tea?” she asked, giving me a small pout.

I rolled my eyes but set my own cup down on the dinner table. “You can have mine.”

“Yay! Thanks, Sim,” she replied, pulling out her chair and taking the tea. 

“Yeah, yeah,” I sighed, as Archie got to her seat and sat down as well. I took my own seat, with no chai, and waited for the girls to drink theirs. 

I jumped at the sound of my phone ringing. The number wasn’t one I knew but it was from India, so it had to be my parents. Or some sort of extended family.

I like big butts and I cannot lie

You other brothas can’t den-

“Hello?” I answered. 

“Simran, it’s your father.”

“Oh hey, dad,” I settled into my seat more easily. “Archie and Maya are here, let me put you on speaker.”

“No. That won’t be necessary,” He said, but I did it anyway, putting the phone in the middle of the table. “Simran, it seems your mother is very sick.”

“Is she okay?” I asked, biting my bottom lip. 

“So, what does that mean?” Archie asked at the same time. 

“It means,” My father sighed exasperatedly, annoyed that I went against a simple order. “Your mother is too sick to travel. We can’t make it to America.”

“So, you guys aren’t going to be here for Christmas?” Maya asked.

“Or my birthday?” Archie added, setting her cup down and looking more upset by the second. I put a hand on her shoulder and she just glowered at the phone.

“No, I’m afraid not, kids,” was my dad’s simple answer. “We’ll send more money, though, for Christmas. Take the girls out shopping, will you, Simran?”

“Can we at least say hi to mom?” I asked, ignoring his question. 

I wasn’t really upset that they weren’t visiting. I usually hated the visits. I was just worried for my mother’s health. I was also worried that my dad thought sending money was the solution. The girls loved seeing them, money was not what they were upset about. 

“Not at the moment, but I’ll have her call you soon,” he said. “Now, I’m busy. So, I will speak to you all later. Goodbye.”

He hung up and we all stared at each other. He’d always been short with us, but if mom was sick, we had the right to know what was happening.

“This sucks,” Archie threw her hands up in frustration. “Why is he always like that?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, trying to think of a way to make them feel better. 

“Is mom going to be okay?” Maya asked, taking another gulp of her—well, my— tea.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I nodded, trying to reassure her. 

This is when it really sucked being the oldest sibling. You had to find a way to make everything better, you were the one with the responsibility. Fuck.

“Well, we don’t know that, do we?” Archie bitterly stated as she sat over her tea. Her hair was a curtain around her and I bit my lip harder, trying not to worry.

“It’ll be alright. Try not to think too much on it,” I said, attempting to seem positive. “Besides, you guys are going to see Marc and Scott tonight. Aren’t they taking you out to the movies? That’ll be fun!”

“Yeah,” Maya nodded excitedly before pushing the teacup clumsily over to me. “Thanks, Sim, you have the rest. I’m gonna go get ready!”

“It’s 9 AM!” Archie said, furrowing her brows. “They’re picking us up at 5, dummy.”

“Don’t call her a dummy,” I gave Archie a look. 

“Sorry,” she sighed. 

Maya just giggled. “I gotta shower and brush my hair and pick out my outfit.”

“Wow, that’s gonna take you eight hours?” Archie replied, rolling her eyes.

“You know Maya loves getting ready early,” I said, trying to not let Archie make Maya sad. 

“Yeah, but eight hours, come on.”

“Unless Sim helps me?” Maya asked, looking at me with big eyes. I groaned. 

“I’ll pick out your outfit while you shower,” I agreed. 

“And can you do my hair?” she pouted. 

“Fine, fine,” I waved her off, taking a sip of the half-drank tea.

“You’re such a pushover,” Archie laughed, getting up to put her cup in the sink.

“And when will Chris be seeing us again?” Maya asked, sending me a grin. This kid.

“Uh, I— I don’t know,” I paused mid-sip. 

“We can ask Scott,” Archie winked conspiratorially. They shared a laugh as I rolled my eyes.

Kids would be the death of me.

I went to my meeting with Lorena and found that I had a few gigs to choose from. The Gucci Guilty ad had given me so many opportunities and it hadn’t even come out yet. Now I had some movies that actually considered me! 

At 5, when Scott and Marc came to pick up the girls, I greeted both with hugs. “Thanks so much for taking the girls out.”

“It’s no problem, we love them,” Scott said with a smile.

“They’re our favorite Grovers,” Marc laughed, ruffling my hair. I glared up at him.

“So, what do you have planned?” Scott asked. 

I held my tongue so I didn’t mention seeing Chris. I would only get shit for it from everyone in the room. 

“Nothing really, I’ll probably just watch TV and do a face mask,” I lied. That’s what I did most nights I had alone time anyway, so it probably didn’t raise any red flags with Marc.

“Fun, as always,” Marc replied, dryly.

“When are Sim and Chris gonna hang out?” Archie asked, giving me a smug look. She did say she was gonna do it. Jerk.

“Well, I’ll convince my brother to come by soon,” Scott said, laughing at the way Maya and Archie were nodding at the same time.

“We should tell Chris we miss him,” Maya said decidedly as they walked out the door. “He probably doesn’t realize.”

“She’s adorable,” Marc sighed, looking at me before looking at the six year old. “Maya, you adorable little baby.”

“I am not a little baby!” was the last thing I heard as they left. 

I took a deep breath and checked the time. I had enough time to get ready and get to Chris’ house but I still worried. 

Would he say anything about the kiss? Would he want us to just forget about it? Would he want to stop being friends? Maybe he wouldn’t even say anything at all. Maybe that’s what I would prefer. I tried to ignore the questions in my head as I got ready. 

It was a casual hangout, so I should look casual. I wore a pair of relaxed ripped jeans, a gray V neck and some black Converse sneakers. 

I put on makeup, like always, but tried to dial down. I only did my face makeup, eyebrows, and mascara. Dialed down for me, at least. 

Leaving my hair the way it was, I honestly didn’t care if it was wild or not. At this point, I was too lazy to put it up in a pony tail or braid.

By this time, it was 6:30. I grabbed my purse and a leather jacket since it was cold out. I played loud music on the drive to drown out my thoughts and avoid thinking about the kiss.

I pulled up to his driveway and sat in the car for a few moments, recollecting my thoughts and giving myself a pep talk. I mean, I had to act cool when I saw him. I couldn’t act like an idiot. I needed to calm down. I was an actress for God’s sake, I could do this.

I rang his doorbell and shifted back and forth nervously. Chris opened it quickly, looking out of the doorway and acting like he couldn’t see me. He looked as perfect as always in jeans and a brown Henley. 

“Very funny, Christopher, but your brother has already pulled that joke,” I smirked when he looked down at me, mock-disappointed.

“Aw man, really, Scott?” Chris threw his free hand, opening the door wider with the other hand and allowing me to walk in. He shut the door and looked at me, “Here, let me take your purse.”

“Thanks,” I said as he hung it on the coat rack near the door. He raised his eyebrow at me.

“And your jacket? I made it super warm in here just for you,” Chris teased, but held his hand out for the jacket. I rolled my eyes but took it off, handing it to him.

“Thank you, but I’ll probably still be cold,” I admitted, already wishing I had on the jacket. Yeah, leather jackets weren’t super comfortable but I could still be warm. 

“I have blankets,” Chris offered, his eyes wide.

“Um, no, it’s fine,” I shook my head, giving him a wry smile. “You don’t have to be such a wonderful host.”

“I’ll bring one to the living room anyway,” he said, opening the door near the stairs and revealing many blankets he had. 

I peered over his shoulder and giggled. “You have enough blankets to make multiple blanket forts.” 

“Yeah, well, when the family comes over, they like to bundle up,” Chris shrugged, grabbing what looked like the softest blanket in there and handing it to me. “This one’s my favorite.”

It was an old blanket, navy blue with the Patriots logo on it. It smelled like him so I took it eagerly. “Thanks, Chris, but seriously, you don’t have to be such a good host.”

“Nonsense, it’s your first time here,” he replied.

“Well, not really, I was here when we went to get Scott and Marc—“

Chris shivered in an exaggerated way, shaking his head at me with a smile. “I wiped that from my mind. It never happened.”

“Oh, sure,” I nodded sarcastically. “You never walked in on them—“

“Ahhh, shhh,” Chris covered his ears as I giggled. He walked into the living room, still covering his ears, but making sure I knew to follow him. He nodded at the couch in front of the TV and I sat there as he went into the kitchen. Finally he asked, “You’re good with pizza, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll eat whatever you feed me!” I laughed, wrapping the blanket around myself. 

“Good, because the pizza arrived ten minutes before you did. Are you hungry right now?”

“I could eat,” I replied, trying to listen to him shuffling around in the kitchen.

“You want a beer? Water? Soda?” he called and I could hear him opening the fridge.

“Coke or water, please,” I said. “Do you need any help?”

“No, no,” I heard his voice getting closer so I knew he was coming. Chris carried out a couple of beers and Coke cans in his arms, setting them down on the coffee table in front of us without bothering to glance at me. “I’ll get the pizza and be right back.”

He grabbed plates and the pizza box, placing it on the table in front of us before looking at me and grinning. I furrowed my brows and asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” Chris said, putting his hands on his hips and staring some more. He shook his head with a smile and turned away, “I’ll turn on the TV.”

He set up The Office, turning on the current episode he was on and then settled in next to me. We started to eat as the theme song played. 

It was silent for a couple of episodes, apart from our laughs. The pizza was done and Chris had drank three beers. I was chugging my second Coke when he spoke suddenly.

“We broke up.”

I wiped my mouth, admittedly not sexily, and looked away from the TV to see how he was reacting. He said it calmly, without any emotion but I still asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think,” he sighed, turning his head to look at me. “I think I am.”

“Do you want— You wanna talk about it?” I gulped, not knowing what to say. Was he going to bring up our kiss?

“I mean, she was beautiful and funny and we had chemistry,” Chris said, pausing the show. My mouth twisted into a grimace. I didn’t really want to hear about how perfect she must’ve been. “But I couldn’t stay with her. We didn’t have enough chemistry.”

“Wow, that must’ve been a tough decision,” I nodded, setting down my soda. “But you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said, looking into my eyes. “I just… I felt lonely.”

Well, that was exactly what I thought he felt. I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to see if I should do anything to help.

“Is that why you asked to hang out?” I asked curiously. “It’s okay, you know, if it was.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I just missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I replied immediately.

“I-I uh, I really wanted to see you,” he admitted hesitantly. 

“I just want to help,” I smiled at him, attempting to reassure him.

He leaned in closer to me and placing his chin on my shoulder, trying to hug me in this weird position. I put my arms under his, hugging him back. 

“Sim, I’m really lonely…” Chris started before pulling back to look me in the eyes again. 

I froze, processing those words in my head a couple of times. He was lonely and? Was I going to be some sort of rebound sex? Some kind of sad, I-need-love fuck? Did I mind that?

Not really. 

I mean, one night with Chris would most likely quench the thirst I had for him. It couldn’t hurt, honestly. All my feelings for him were probably just physical and he said so himself that he was lonely. He could fuck me to get over Minka. 

If that’s what he was suggesting.

“What do you mean?” I asked, telling myself not to jump to conclusions. 

“I don’t know,” Chris said, seeming frustrated with himself. 

I sighed to myself, my decision made. “If I do you a favor, will you promise not to over think it?”

“Well, yeah, I guess?” he seemed confused but willing to go along with it.

I pushed the blanket off of myself and straddled him, placing my hands on his shoulder to steady myself. He inhaled quickly, placing his hands on my hips hesitantly.

I looked Chris in the eye, searching for a hint to stop. There was none, so I proceeded. I pulled him back by the hair and his grip on my hips tightened. If we weren’t wearing clothes right now, we’d be having sex. I felt a thrill run through my spine at the thought.

Pausing again to see if there would be any protest, I let my eyes wander to his lips. 

He must’ve knew where I had been going with this because he was the one to initiate the kiss. He pulled me toward him roughly as our lips collided. I kept one hand on his shoulder and the other tangled in his hair, relishing in the feeling of our lips together.

I didn’t realize it before, but I really missed kissing Chris.

He pressed me into his hips as I nipped at his bottom lip. His large, strong hands were probably going to leave bruises on me, but I didn’t mind. I pulled him closer by his hair, making him let out a low groan.

I removed the hand from his shoulder and weaved it into his hair as well, pulling away to press kisses on his neck. Pushing his hips into mine, he pressed one hand against my lower back and made the other hand move my hips for me. 

I gasped quietly into his neck as I felt the friction between my thighs. He noticed my reaction, pushing his hips up to me and pulling me down onto him, grinding me into his lap. 

Fuck, this felt good. I could probably get off on this.

With that in mind, I kissed him again with all my force. He moaned, low and quiet, allowing my tongue to make an appearance. I pushed my tongue against his, pulling him as close to me as humanly possible. I didn’t know if I could ever do this again, so I knew I had to make it good.

Chris pulled away, moving up the hand on my lower back to cradle my face. I looked into his eyes —nearly black from his pupils dilating— and tried not to get lost. He looked so intense and focused, even though I was literally doing all the work. But that look on his face… I shuddered.

His thumb brushed my bottom lip, hinting he wanted to kiss more. Instead, I felt bold. (I mean, I was already dry-humping him, how could I get any bolder? But I did.) I sucked his thumb into my mouth, giving the suggestion of things to come later. He moaned deep and rough, his eyes trained on my lips as he watched me suck his thumb in and out. 

I decided to grind myself back and forth on him, feeling myself get warmer and warmer. He felt so good between my thighs and I couldn’t stop allowing myself this pleasure. I knew this was about him, but I needed an orgasm from something other than my own hands. 

Moving my hands from him onto the back of the couch, I leaned closer to Chris, focused on swaying my hips at just the right angle. I popped his thumb out of my mouth, pecking a kiss on it and smiling cheekily. He looked at me with wide eyes and an open mouth, looking more turned on that I’d ever seen anyone.

His hardness underneath me was also proof that he was turned on, but anyway. 

I felt warm all over, the tension in me growing and I was so close. So fucking close. I was now chasing my own release. Chris decided now was the time to assist me, gripping my hips with both hands and pulling me down against him harder and faster.

Breathing heavily, Chris eagerly pressed his lips up to mine. I felt my orgasm rise and I tensed up, hoping the motions would be enough to get me there. He moved even faster, allowing me the sweet relief. I froze and gasped silently on his lips as I felt it wash over me. He kept moving and kissing me, prolonging my orgasm.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was so fucking good. How was I ever going to move on from that? I swore into his neck as I came down from my high and decided it was time to reward him.

I got off his lap quickly and he looked at me in shock. I leaned over him and lowered myself between his legs. Placing an open-mouthed kiss over his growing erection, I shot him a coy smile. As I reached for the waistband of his jeans, he tentatively held for my right shoulder.

“You shouldn’t, you’re probably drunk,” Chris shook his head, finally speaking again, but his voice was breathless. Now he was going to speak up? No way, no way in hell. Not when I was getting into it.

“I didn’t drink at all, actually,” I pointed out, pressing another kiss into the denim of his jeans. 

I raised an eyebrow and he fell back with a relaxed sigh as a response. I pulled him free of his pants and his boxer briefs, unable to hold back a proud smile. I knew he was big. Good call, Sim.

I pressed his tip towards him as I licked the underside of his penis going up up up. Chris let out a small moan and I knew I could do this longer than I had planned. 

I cupped him in my left hand, tightened my right hand around his base, and sucked his head strongly and deeply. I bobbed slowly, increasing my pace with my mouth as well as my right hand.

His hips began to rise and I fought my grin. I rubbed him in my left hand and hummed before I popped his tip out of my mouth loudly. I licked the precum off my lips— slightly sour but with a hint of sweetness.

I let go of him to position myself closer. This was the second to last lap and I had to be ready for the grand finale. I would’ve laughed at my own joke if I wasn’t so focused on the task at hand. I slowly licked him from base to tip at every angle I could manage and I kissed his frenulum before I sloppily sucked him back into my mouth.

I took him as deep as I could, feeling him press against my throat. I hummed and began the motions with my hands as before, increasing the pressure on his scrotum with my left as I pumped him with my right and began bobbing as far down as I could all at the same time.

I allowed myself to fall into a trance of sucking him deeply and sliding my tongue around the underside of his penis while making guttural sounds that I was sure would reverberate in the most tantalizing way. I allowed saliva to leak out of my mouth, giving me a bit more lubrication as well as increasing the wet sounds of oral sex.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Chris panted, his hips beginning to thrust up to me. 

This is the final lap, Simran. Go big or go home.

I squeezed his testicles and sucked him back in, looking up at him through my eyelashes as I did so. I pressed my tongue flat against him and opened my mouth wide so he could feel my throat tighten around him one last time before I made him see stars. 

When I pulled back and took a deep breath, Chris smiled at me. I swear I would never forget that look. 

I kept my eyes on him as I pumped my hands and mouth down his shaft, the ministrations on his scrotum never slowing. I began to moan louder and louder and I felt him unraveling beneath me. My eyes urged him to let go, to give himself up to the sensations I was creating for him.

He moaned “Sim” and “Fuck” a few times as his hips jerked. I wanted to hear him say my name like that over and over again.

He reached out to hold my head and I felt the warm ooze of ejaculate squirt into my mouth. I tightened my lips around his head and slowed my pace but continued to suck him deeply. When the cum stopped flowing, I popped him out of my mouth again to lick whatever was left over and swallow it down.

I carefully wrapped him back into his boxer briefs and pulled his jeans up so he could buckle them himself. I sat beside him and watched him as he caught his breath.

“How am I not supposed to over think you giving me a blowjob?” Chris finally asked, laughing breathlessly. The man sounded like he just ran five miles. I just shrugged and smiled at him.

He looked so tired and peaceful. I think I really sucked the energy out of him. I almost laughed at my own joke but Chris looked like he had more to say. I knew this was something we would need to talk about but at the moment, I just wanted to leave the night where it was.

“That was so fucking good, Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, leaning back into the couch even more. He was clearly exhausted after that and I knew I needed to get going. It was already 9, according to the clock in his living room. 

“You’re welcome,” I replied cheekily, getting up from the couch. I pushed him gently down and pulled the fallen blanket over him. “You should sleep, Christopher.”

“But, Sim, what does this mean?” he asked, half-asleep. “Like… What are we now?”

I cleared my throat, amusement gone from my voice. “Well, we can talk about that later. When you’re awake. Now, get to sleeping.”

He was already asleep by the end of my sentence, so I sighed quietly in relief. 

I took my jacket and purse, coming back into the living room to check if Chris was still sleeping. He was now snoring happily in his position, so I gave him a kiss on the cheek and left for my house.

“Hey Sim, where did you go?” Archie asked when I came home. 

“Oh, nowhere, really. I just wanted to go out and eat,” I shrugged. “How was the movie?”

“Uh-huh, it was good. So, what did you eat?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. She was suspicious but it’s not like she could really interrogate me.

“Pizza,” I smiled. 

To be fair, it wasn’t exactly a lie.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

It’s not that I was avoiding Chris… But I was totally avoiding Chris.

But it was for good reason.

Seriously, here’s the list I made of questionable things I’d done just this last week. I wrote it down on a napkin while I was freaking out.

Simran’s Very Questionable Actions in the Past Week:

1\. Shamelessly dry-humping Chris until climaxing on his lap (fully clothed).  
2\. Sucking his dick like a goddamn freak.  
3\. Enjoying sucking his dick, like, really enjoying it.  
4\. Not answering any of his text messages asking to talk afterwards.  
5\. Probably ruining a perfectly good friendship because of her fucking hormones and lack of understanding signals.

So, five things. That’s pretty fucked up. That’s some pretty fucked up shit.

But I mean… Could anyone blame me? No. You would’ve done the same thing. Sure, you would’ve executed it better and maybe not been so stupid. But you would’ve done something like it. Don’t lie to me, you've seen Chris. 

Anyway.

Chris texted me the morning after my Fuck Up™ and said “Can we talk?” He sent multiple variations of the same text and I still hadn’t replied. That was five days ago. I don’t know how long I thought I could avoid it but, for some reason, I thought I could run forever.

Earlier today, I had dropped the girls off at school and went to the gym. I allowed myself to stay there a little longer than normal, trying to exercise my frustrations away. Obviously that didn’t work, but it was worth a try. Besides, the sore muscles would do me good.

So, on my way home from the gym, I decided to finally answer Chris. 

That was a mistake. 

I should’ve just never texted him back and avoided him forever. I should’ve just waited until we had another Gucci Guilty obligation and dealt with the horrible awkwardness at that point (or masterfully avoided that too, somehow). I should’ve just not given him a blowjob without discussing things first.

The message I sent him just said “Sorry, I was busy” — I was such a fucking idiot.

Sorry, I was busy? What the fuck, Simran? That’s what you say? After five days of not replying? You’ve just been busy for five days? You may as well have not fucking replied! It might’ve had better results! What does that text even fucking mean!?

Now, remember when I said I thought I could avoid him forever? Well, I was wrong. 

Chris showed up at my doorstep not even an hour later than the time I sent my text message. When I heard the knock on the door, I didn’t know who it could be but I certainly didn’t think it would be him. 

So, you could imagine my shock when I opened the door to a very serious looking Chris, arms crossed over his large chest and his beautiful jaw set. 

I did what any idiot who doesn’t know how to handle serious situations would do: I shut the door on him. 

I pressed my back against my front door and sighed, trying to calm myself down. I couldn’t even look him in the eye. I just slammed my front door in his face! God, I was making the situation worse by the minute. 

I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to think of how I should fix this. Maybe I should just tell him to never contact me again. I mean, that’s probably what he wanted to tell me. I’m sure he wanted to set me straight and tell me that I was going to get sued by him or something. 

That’s when he started knocking again and I bit my lip harder, attempting to steady my breathing. I looked like a fucking idiot in sweatpants, a sports bra, and an open hoodie. Certainly not the outfit I’d want this conversation in but it didn’t seem like I had time to change. I knocked my head back against the door once before turning around. 

It was time to face him and he was certainly not going to be leaving, it seemed. 

When I opened the door this time, I peaked my head through hesitantly. “Hey, Chris.” My voice cracked, so I cleared my throat a couple of times.

“Can I come in?” he asked, seeming less stern than the first time I opened the door but still pretty fucking serious. He was dressed similarly to the last time I saw him, in dark jeans and a burgundy Henley this time. That sparked memories I didn’t want to think about at the moment. 

I panicked. I was a coward, I couldn’t face him.

“Uh, you know, now’s not a good time. Maybe we could talk…” I started, but he pushed the door open to allow himself in. I put my back against the door again, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. I sighed and finished my sentence lamely, “later.”

“Sim, I don’t even know where to start,” Chris began, pinching the bridge of his nose and pacing in front of me. I zipped up my hoodie to cover myself up as much as possible. I really didn’t want to seem like I was trying to seduce him.

“I know,” I shook my head, looking away from him.

“No, you don’t know,” he sighed, rubbing his beard and shaking his head. He was still pacing in front of me, with no end in sight.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never talk to you again,” I promised, swallowing to stop the bile from rising in my throat. I wanted to throw up. I really never thought things through and this was probably the worst thing I’d ever done impulsively. I felt so bad.

I didn't know how to read signs. He didn’t want me, I just pushed myself onto him. Oh fuck, I forced myself on to him. I was disgusting. He was my friend and I fucked it up because I thought lonely = suck my dick.

“Damn it, Sim, I woke up on my couch, alone. Feeling thoroughly fucked with my pants undone. And then, you didn't talk to me for five days straight.” 

“I know,” I repeated, unraveling the french braids my hair had been in to give my shaky hands something to do. 

“Do you even realize how that made me feel?” he stopped pacing suddenly. 

“I, uh, no, I don’t,” I answered honestly, still avoiding his piercing eyes. 

“It made me feel cheap. Like our friendship didn’t matter to you,” he said, now facing me with his hands on his hips. 

“I’m sorry, I just thought…” I trailed off, biting my lip and closing my eyes. “I fucked up enormously.”

“I don’t, I don’t think you fucked up enormously,” Chris sighed, and I opened my eyes to look up at him. “But we needed to talk about this and you avoided me, and… And that was what made me feel like you didn’t care. Like you didn’t want to be friends or even be around me anymore.”

“Chris,” my voice cracked and he dropped his head, running a hand through his hair nervously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I just… I don’t think things through sometimes.”

“Yeah, I see that,” he said it bitterly and his tone made me flinch. He had every reason to act like this but that didn’t mean it didn’t suck. He turned to the kitchen counter and held on like he was trying to calm himself down. 

“I’m sorry.” I tried to convey my regret into the two words but it didn’t really work out, I think.

“Maybe now’s not the right time,” Chris muttered, more to himself than to me. “Can we talk another time? Without me having to ambush you? Are you able to do that with me?”

“Um.” I chewed on my lip, I needed to calm down too.

“Or do you want us to just stop talking altogether? Do you not want to be friends?” He asked, turning back to me now seeming defeated.

“No, that’s not what I said,” I shook my head furiously, biting my lip to anchor myself. I knew I had no right to ask but I did anyway. “Do you still want to be friends with me?”

“I mean,” Chris laughed to himself nervously. He was acting almost hysterically and I felt bad because I was the reason. “I want to, yes. You’re important to me. So important. But, we still need to talk about what actually happened.”

“Yeah, we do, I get that,” I nodded, biting my bottom lip even harder. I licked my lips and tasted the copper in my mouth. Nice, I drew blood again. Now was the perfect time! I raised my fingers to my lip, feeling the soreness. 

“Sim, your lip is bleeding,” he sighed, grabbing the closest napkins resting on the kitchen counter and handing them to me. 

Which would’ve been fine. But he noticed the one with my writing on it, the one with my embarrassing fucking list on it. He started reading it when I realized what it was.

Fucking fuck, Simran. It was in plain sight and I didn’t think to throw it away. Why didn’t I fucking burn it from existence? Why didn’t I fucking vanish into thin air right now?

“No, wait,” I tried to swipe it from his hands, unsuccessfully. Have you ever tried to take something from someone a whole foot taller than you? It almost never works, you just jump around looking like a dumbass.

Chris held it above my reach, reading it with eyebrows furrowed and a frown. His cheeks grew red and his eyes widened. When he looked back down at me, he chuckled a little incredulously. “Okay, we really need to talk. Like, now.”

I had expected more of a reaction like storming out of here and sending me a restraining order. But this was a different reaction. I didn’t know if it was good, but it was different from what I thought would happen, so…

“Are you… Are you mad at me?” I asked in a small voice, holding the napkin to my bleeding lip.

“No!” Chris answered quickly. “No. Frustrated? Yeah, of course. Confused? You bet your ass. But I’m not… Angry with you.”

“Are you sure? Not even after reading that?” I raised an eyebrow, now waiting for him to tell me how horrible and stupid I was to think he’d even want to be friends with me after reading that list. 

“Sim, I’m not… Mad,” he sighed. “I was upset that you avoided me, above all else.”

I dabbed the napkin on my lip a few more times, taking in his answer. “Why don’t you sit on the couch and I’ll make us chai? Then we can talk all you want.”

Chris hesitated as I crumpled up the napkin in my hand. “Can I watch how you make tea?”

I smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “You think I’m gonna try to run away?”

“Could you blame me for thinking that?” he pointedly asked, folding my list into his jean pocket. 

I frowned, noticing the action but deciding it was best to say nothing. At least, for now. “N-No.”

“But I do want to know how to make tea and you told me you’d show me one day,” he added, tilting his head. He looked like a golden retriever and I realized how much I’d miss him in these five long days.

“Okay, come on,” I sighed, waving him along. I did promise I’d show him how to make chai.

I ran my fingers quickly through my newly loose, wavy hair and then washed my hands. I pulled out a pot and heated up the water. As I grabbed the rest of the ingredients around my kitchen, Chris cleared his throat. “So… We may as well talk while we make the tea.”

“Knew you had an ulterior motive,” I muttered as I looked through my condiments. It wasn’t a huge kitchen, so I worried about bumping into him. This situation was awkward enough without that being added to the mix.

“Our original goal was to talk,” Chris pointed out, leaning his back against my pantry door. 

“Okay, so talk,” I shrugged, waiting for the water in the pot to start boiling.

“So, you want to stay friends?” he said it, but it sounded like a question. I nodded, not trusting my voice. He continued, “Even after… all that?”

“After all what?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not, tell me what you mean,” I pushed, now putting tea leaves and other spices into the boiling water. “This is tea leaves, ginger and cardamom, by the way.”

“After… The making out and you… You know.”

“Right. I can still be friends, if you can.”

“Well, I can. We’re great friends and I never want to lose that. But why did you do it?” 

“I don’t know, you kept saying you were lonely,” I sighed, realizing how stupid I sounded. “I’m bad at reading signs and shit. I don’t know, Christopher.”

“That’s it? Not because I’m hot or something?” I could almost see the smirk on his face. Motherfucker. I stiffened before trying to relax again. Maybe I should just say it now so he can tell me to fuck off and then never speak to me again.

“Okay, so, I’m physically attracted to you,” I admitted, keeping my back to him. He’d already seen the stupid list I’d made saying I enjoyed sucking his dick. So, what’s the worst thing I could say now? 

He didn’t say anything for a few moments. In order to fill the space of silence, I grabbed milk from the fridge. I poured the milk into the tea, waiting for it to boil again. I was hoping he wouldn’t just explode or something. Perhaps he’d just leave.

“So, you’re attracted to me,” Chris repeated, slower. “You’re… Physically attracted… To me.”

“That’s what I said,” I snarked, annoyed that he had to say it twice. I felt bad for the sass immediately though. I turned around to look at him, ready to apologize. 

“Okay, so, I’m attracted to you too,” he confessed before I could say anything else, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you just saying that?” My eyes narrowed. He was just saying it to make me feel better. Or… Something. I don’t know really. But it seemed too good to be true, so I was obviously suspicious. He looked like that and he was attracted to me?

“No, I’m not,” Chris said, slowly coming closer to me. It was like he was trying to approach a bear. Me being the bear. Wait. I didn’t know why someone would approach a bear? So this simile was useless. Well, maybe they’d approach a bear if it had something they needed… Okay, I needed to stop overthinking. He just approached me carefully. There.

“So, we’re friends and we’re attracted to each other,” I stated the only two things we had established so far. Even though I didn’t quite believe he was attracted to me. I mean, come on. Where’s Ashton Kutcher coming out to tell me I’m getting Punk’d? “What does that make us?”

“I’m not sure,” he shrugged, stopping about a yard away from me. It was still so close. I could smell his cologne from here. Jesus fucking Christ, I was pathetic.

“Well, I have an idea,” I chewed on my tender bottom lip again. I probably shouldn’t have even mentioned it. Quickly, I backtracked, “But I don’t wanna sound like an idiot. So, never mind.”

“Sim, honey, you’re not going to sound like an idiot,” he said, and it was in that soft voice I knew he used for me so I relaxed a bit.

“Well, uh, it’s a little juvenile,” I wrinkled my nose. “But we could be friends… With benefits.” Chris’ eyes bugged out of his sockets. “Fuck, I told you. I’m sorry. I’m such a fuckwad.”

“No, no, no,” he chuckled, sounding shocked, like he hadn’t expected that. He probably hadn’t. He was a 34 year old man, why would he waste his time with me? “I just thought you’d say… Actually, I didn’t know what I thought you would say.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so dumb. If you still wanted to be friends before, you certainly don’t want to now,” I sighed, hunching over the boiled, officially done tea.

“Of course I do,” he quickly replied. “So, friends with benefits? What do you have in mind?”

“Well, we could go over what it means for us. For the rules and all,” I offered, turning off the stove. “If you want to, that is.”

“Let’s talk about rules,” Chris seemed curious now as I grabbed two tea cups from my cabinet. “It’s not a… Bad idea.”

“The tea’s almost done,” I said quietly. “Why don’t you sit at the table and I’ll bring it over.”

“Aw man, really?” he pouted, looking at the stove like he didn’t realize where the time went. Actually, he probably didn’t. “I didn’t even watch the tea.”

“I’ll teach you another time?” I suggested, trying to keep hope that we would still be on speaking terms. 

I mean, I did just bring up the fact that we could be fuck buddies essentially. Was it selfish? Perhaps. I did want to fuck Chris. But hey, he said he was attracted to me. So maybe he wanted to fuck me, too. Or maybe it’d just be convenient to him. I’d take it either way.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he grumbled good-naturedly, moving to the dinner table. 

“Do you want any sugar?” I called, pouring the tea into the cups.

“Can I try it without?” he raised his voice only slightly but I heard him clearly. 

“Sure.”

When I came to the table, Chris eyed me. “How many teaspoons of sugar do you have?”

“Two or three,” I shrugged. “I’ve always been like that.”

“You’re gonna get diabetes with that fuckin’ sweet tooth of yours,” he joked, and suddenly things seemed normal. But I knew they weren’t. Because I fucked things up. 

“Here you go,” I set down the tea cup in front of him and then sat across the table. Maybe he wanted distance. I couldn’t read his mind. He was about to take a sip when he noticed how far I was.

“Why are you sitting over there?” Chris seemed upset, so I guess he didn’t want distance. Told you I couldn’t read his mind. I shrugged in response and tried to appease him, moving closer to sit next to him.

“So, rules?” I started, as he took a sip of his tea.

“This is really good,” he groaned, “I want you to make me chai all the time.”

“I’ll do you one better,” I cracked a smile. “I’ll teach you how to make it, and then you can have it all the time.”

Chris shook his head. “I only want it if you make it. I bet you make it the best.”

“No way, there’s Indian aunties everywhere who would love to disagree with you,” My face burned up at the sincerity in his voice. I laughed it off before taking my own drink. The hot chai was already calming me down, thank God.

“I don’t care, I stand by my statement,” he said, taking more gulps. He wiped his mouth finally and looked at me intently. 

“Chris, that list…” I trailed off, not knowing what I had intended to say. I felt like I had to mention it so he didn’t think I was avoiding that too. I mean, I was. I didn’t want him to read it, that’s for sure. But he did and, I was already fucked (not in the way I’d like to be), so I brought it up.

“Was interesting,” he finished for me. “Do you always make lists like that?” 

I ran a hand down my face as I thought of the question. “When I do stupid shit, yeah. Or when I just need to get stuff out of my mind.”

“It gave me some insight into your brain,” Chris confessed. “I never know what you’re thinking unless you say it.”

“I could say the same for you,” I countered. I think I could decipher more about him than he could about me, though. I read his facial expressions pretty well. Or, at least, I hope I did.

“Okay… Fine, so, rules.”

“Right… Rules.”

“Rules for us being friends… With benefits…”

“Yeah, those rules. For that.”

“Do you— Should I— Can I ask questions and maybe you answer them?” Chris asked, scratching his nose with his thumb. I nodded. “Alright. So, benefits. We’re talking… Sexual?”

I laughed at his tone but nodded. “Yeah, sexual. If you want.”

His face flushed but he nodded. “Okay. Um. So, we remain the way we are as friends. But we just have casual sex?”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Have you never had a fuck buddy before?”

“Of course I have,” Chris seemed almost offended at the notion that he hadn’t. I almost laughed at that. “I just want to clarify. You’ve… You’ve had sex before, right?”

I scoffed. Now it was my turn to be offended. “Christopher, of course I’ve had sex before.”

“I mean, I know you’ve probably given blowjobs before,” he said, ducking his head. 

I could see the tips of his ears were pink and was glad I couldn’t flush as noticeably. Sucks for lighter skinned people. He muttered something under his breath I couldn’t quite hear but I was sure it was about the blowjob I’d given him, so I cleared my throat. 

He looked back at me and asked, “But you’ve had penetrative sex?”

“Yes,” I rolled my eyes at this point.

“Okay, okay, I just didn’t want to be responsible for taking your virginity,” Chris said, raising his hands in surrender. 

“Chris, I lost it at 17,” I sighed. 

“Wow, I did too,” he replied.

“Yeah, but I was Maya’s age at the time you were losing your virginity, grandpa,” I responded, raising my eyebrows.

Chris almost spit out his chai. “Can we please not talk about age difference?”

“Why not?” I teased, feeling like we were back in time before my Fuck Up™. “We’re supposed to be talking.”

“About this current situation,” Chris reaffirmed. “So, you’ve had sex. How many times? How many people?”

“Oh no, no, no,” I shook my head, setting my teacup down. I pointed an index finger at him, sternly. “You are not asking me my number.”

“Why not?” he seemed genuinely confused. The furrow in his eyebrow was so cute and—I needed to focus. Okay, focus Simran.

“I’ve seen those What’s Your Number press interviews! You’d never tell me your number, why should I tell you mine?!” I raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to prove me wrong.

“It’s not like I’m going to admit my number for the internet to see,” he shrugged but I gave him a look. “Alright, so I’ve been around.”

“Well, what is it? Ballpark range?” I pushed, curiously but also nervously. Perhaps it was better not to know. But it was only fair if he wanted to know mine.

“A lot,” he shrugged again, sipping his tea.

“A lot?” I repeated incredulously. “If that’s your definition of a number, then I’m not telling you mine.”

“I don’t know it,” Chris admitted. “It’s… Literally, a lot. I took advantage of my movie star status over the years.”

“You don’t know how many women you’ve had sex with?” I asked. Then, I said it without thinking, “I’ve only had sex with two guys.”

Chris choked on his tea, coughing slightly. “Two? Just two?”

“Yeah,” I furrowed my brows, puzzled by his reaction. I thought he’d just laugh at me.

“Just two?” he looked like he literally couldn’t believe me. “You’re telling me, you’ve only been with two guys and you give blow jobs that can make me see stars?”

This time it was me who almost spit out my tea. “Can we not?!”

“Not what?” 

“Jesus Christ,” I shook my head, not responding to his question. “Okay, so friends with benefits. You think it’d work?”

“Yeah, I think we could do it,” Chris smirked behind his teacup.

He looked gorgeous and I suddenly realized I could literally be fucking him. Would be fucking him. Was planning on fucking him. I could pass out right now.

“Alright. Are we going to be… Exclusive?” I asked, running a hand through my waves. Was that even the right word? Like, were we only going to be fucking each other?

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. 

I looked at him in surprise. “I asked for you. Because I thought you might want to see other ladies, you know. With that movie star status of yours that you loved to use.”

“Well, it’s probably best not to,” he shrugged, looking into his tea. “Besides, what if we have sex with other people and they’re not clean? I’m clean and I believe you if you say you are… But other people, we just don’t know about. If one of us caught something, we could be in big trouble.”

“Okay,” I nodded, seeing his reasoning. “But the minute you think you want to date someone, you let me know and we’ll stop right away.”

“Of course,” Chris agreed. “And—and, of course, same goes for you, of course.”

He was stumbling over his words and seeming a little nervous. I didn’t mention him repeating “of course” three times. I thought I’d give him a break.

“Cool. So, it’s a deal… I guess?” I tilted my head.

“It’s a deal,” he said before adding, “So, when will we be… Sealing the deal, I guess you could say?”

I snorted. “Nice euphemism.”

“What? I’m serious!” he protested but he had a grin on his face.

“We can’t right now,” I admitted, regrettably. Was this even real? Were we really going to do this? “At least, not this week. The girls are keeping me busy as fuck.”

“Yeah, and I’m going to Boston until next week anyway,” he told me. “But, soon. Whenever you’re ready. I’ll let you know the day I come back into town.”

“We’re going to act normal, right?” I asked, biting my lip. “You’re not going to act weird around me now.”

“Sim, it’s going to be a little weird, at first,” Chris sighed, placing his hand on top of mine on the table. “But I promise we’ll be fine.”

“Well. At least you’re honest, Christopher,” I slumped in my chair. He just smiled at me in response. His smile was reassuring too.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

I was frustrated and upset. I wanted to cry.

Also, Chris and I hadn’t fucked yet.

That wasn’t why I was frustrated or upset or wanted to cry.

(Well, I mean, not the main reason).

With all this fuck buddy bullshit looming over my head, I was still trying to find more work. So, I went to an audition that Lorena told me would be great for me. I was already a nervous wreck, like always, biting my lip to the point of bleeding. 

But the casting director was such a fucking asshole. 

He took one look at me and turned me away, muttering about how odd my legs looked. I didn’t even have a chance to audition, he just said I wasn’t the right look for the movie and that when I got some stilts I’d be able to try again.

You had to have thick skin to be in Hollywood and this hadn’t even been the worst things said to me, but sometimes there were those days. Those days where you felt like complete shit and wanted to just go home and cry yourself to sleep. This was one of those days.

Marc and I had a special code for these days. He would take the girls either out for the night, no questions asked, and would give me all the time I needed. I used to feel bad and ask what I could possibly do to repay him, but he just shut me up and said that he loved the girls like they were his own sisters.

I had to say that Marc was sent to me from God. I sent him a tex that it was one of those days and told him I’d be home in an hour. He told me to take as long as I needed and that they’d all be gone by the time I was home. 

So, this was where I was right now. 

I came home to an empty apartment, as promised. I let my hair down from the tight bun it was in and ran my fingers through the waves. I took off my restricting bra and jeans (not without thinking of how ugly my legs were, of course) in order to laze around in just my oversized sweater and underwear. 

Deciding to make myself some tea, I walked into the kitchen. Just as I brought out the pot, I heard a key jingling and my door opening. Marc or Char wouldn’t show up since they knew what was up today, so I got nervous and grabbed the pot to hold it up as a weapon.

I didn’t hear an answer so I padded out of the kitchen. When I saw who it was, I screamed. Chris, who had been carrying a large, black bag on his shoulder and shutting my door, screamed as well. 

“Jesus fuck, Simran,” Chris looked at me with eyes as wide as saucers, holding a hand to his heart. “You fuckin’ scared me.”

“I fucking scared you?! You’re the one in my apartment,” I gaped at him as he laughed. I set down the pot on the dinner table and sighed. “How’d you even get in here?”

“I used the spare key that you showed me,” he shrugged, setting the bag he had on his shoulder on the kitchen counter top. 

I felt like I was dreaming. “Why? What the fuck?” 

“Well, I’m here to make you feel better,” Chris explained eagerly.

“Um, wh-what?” My imagination ran wild with that sentence and I wanted to dump cold water on myself. This must’ve been a dream. Had to have been a dream.

Chris looked perfect. He always did. He had on a white T-shirt with a dark blue hoodie and jeans, a black baseball cap sitting on his head as always. 

“Marc called me and told me about the special code,” he said, looking at me with warm sincerity. “He said that I should help, so I jumped at the opportunity.”

“You just got back from Boston last night. Thanksgiving just happened! You’re probably exhausted and you… You came here when Marc told you I had a bad day?” I spoke slowly, trying to comprehend what was happening. “I don’t know if you think I’m ready to… You know, seal the deal today… But I’m not.”

Chris shrugged, the sincerity still evident in his eyes. “I don’t expect anything. I wanna make sure you’re okay. We’re friends, Sim, friends do that.”

“Aw, shit. Yeah, well—I’m sorry—I just meant—“ I stumbled over my words, not knowing what I was saying or what I wanted to say. “But the conversation we had… I’m not backing out or anything.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Chris smiled as he moved closer to me. I could smell his cologne and I wanted to bury myself in his neck. “I promise, we don’t even need to talk about that right now.”

“Did he tell you what set off the special code?” I asked, trying not to seem so curious.

“No, I don’t need to know,” he replied firmly. “You’ll tell me if you tell me.”

I opened my mouth and closed it before opening it again. “If?”

“If. I don’t expect anything,” Chris confirmed before repeating, “Now, I’m here to make you feel better, Simran.” 

“Well, how are we going to do that?” I asked as he looked down at me. I think I could see the exact moment he realized I was in just a sweater (and my underwear, but he couldn’t see them, so). It was the same moment I did.

I was incredibly underdressed. Especially in the presence of him. I froze, my mind thinking of ways for me to run to my room and put as many more clothes on as I possibly could. Maybe it was best to hide every inch of skin from him. 

I cleared my throat, trying to seem normal, “I should probably go change.”

“No, please don’t,” Chris protested immediately, his voice rough. He cleared his own throat as he shook his head, “You should be comfortable. If you want, I can just leave the stuff here and go away instead. Whatever makes you feel better.”

“No, stay please,” I disagreed instantly. I was being selfish, but I wanted him here. I wanted Chris to make me feel better in whatever ways he wanted to. I really should’ve changed but in all honesty, I was way too comfortable. “Unless I make you uncomfortable.”

“No, of course not,” he hesitated, taking his hat off and looking me directly in the eye. “You sure?”

“I’m going to wrap myself in a blanket at some point anyway,” I admitted shyly. At least the sweater hit mid-thigh, longer than a few skirts I owned. The idea of changing was long-forgotten because I was too curious to see what Chris had planned. “Show me what’s in the bag.”

Chris looked back at the bag on the counter and smiled at me. “I picked up a few things. With the assistance of Marc via phone, of course.”

I snorted, “Don’t give him all the credit.”

“No, really, it’s true,” Chris said, ducking his head nervously. “But I chose some stuff I thought you’d like.”

“Well, don’t keep me waiting, Christopher,” I teased, moving closer to both him and the bag. He set down his hat and looked through the bag. 

Rubbing a hand over his beard, he then sighed. “Okay, first things first. Marc told me to pick up some ice cream and we need to put that in the freezer for a bit so that it’s not all melted.”

I squealed excitedly. “What kind of ice cream?”

“Cheesecake Brownie,” Chris said with a grin. “Do you remember? You gave me a cheesecake brownie the first time we actually met.”

“Holy fuck, I didn’t remember that,” I said to myself. What I did remember was the moan Chris made when he ate it. That was not the image I needed, but my mind was trying to torture me. 

“Well, I do,” he smirked.

“You know I’m not sharing, right?”

“That’s why I got some for myself too. Cookies and Cream, all for me,” he laughed. Taking out the tubs of ice cream and moving towards the kitchen, he called out, 

“You have to wait though, because we’re having dinner first.”

“What are we eating?” I asked, confused. I wanted to look in the bag but I didn’t want to spoil the surprises so I waited patiently for him to return. 

“I’m gonna bake mac and cheese,” he said, coming back in after putting away the ice cream. “Not that Kraft bullshit you have in your pantry.”

I furrowed my brows. “You’re gonna cook for me?”

“Sim, I know how to cook,” Chris scoffed jokingly. “It should only take forty five minutes.”

“Okay, I’m not hungry just yet,” I nodded, trying to hide my grin. “Can we go over more of the stuff?”

“How do you know there’s more stuff?” Chris teased, coming to stand next to me at the counter.

“The bag’s huge,” I rolled my eyes with a smile. 

“Okay, so, I know you love Coke,” Chris started, “Partly because you told me and partly because it’s the only other thing you drink when you don’t drink water or chai.”

“And?”

“So, I grabbed these glass Coke bottles because I thought it’d be cool to have,” he shrugged nervously, taking the bottles out of the bag. They were wrapped in two plastic bags, so as not to break, and Chris set them down on the counter.

“This is so awesome!” I exclaimed, unwrapping the bottles. “You know, in India, they used to drink from these bottles all the time? My mom told me they only recently changed to cans at restaurants. I don’t know why they did, it was so cute!”

“I didn’t know that, actually,” Chris said, now sounding more proud. “You like it then?”

“Of course I like it!” I smiled at him, “Thank you.”

“There’s more,” he said, now even more enthusiastic after seeing my reaction. “Marc said you love face masks but you hate doing them alone.” He pulled out two different types of face masks, one for hydration and one for pores, and smirked at me. “So, I’ll take one for the team.”

“Are you serious?” I giggled, imagining him in a mask. “What about your beard?”

“Eh, we’ll just get all the skin and avoid that area,” Chris laughed along with me. We looked at each other and paused before he cleared his throat quickly. “Let’s see what else is in here.”

He rummaged through the bag, taking out multiple pairs of fuzzy socks. I laughed at the Christmas designs as he handed them to me. He smiled at me, “Marc said your feet get cold.”

I waited for his next item and he looked as nervous as he did when he showed me the Coke bottles. “What is it?”

“I saw this color and I thought of you. It reminded me of Gucci Guilty,” Chris smiled to himself then looked at me. Taking out a dark red lipstick, he carefully places it in my open palm. 

“This is pretty,” I smiled not having the heart to tell him I already had the color. It was a sweet gift and I was running low on the lipstick anyway. “I love this color.”

“It looks beautiful on you,” he agreed and I felt my face flush.

He took out a somewhat large box, the last thing in the bag it seemed, and handed it to me. I read the front and gasped, “You got me an electric blanket?”

“I thought that since you’re cold all the time and it’s not going to get any warmer any time soon…” Chris quickly scratched the bridge of his nose with his thumb, a cute and nervous trait. “I thought you might want some extra heat.”

“You’re the best,” I shook my head in awe. “Not just for the blanket, but for everything.”

“Aw, hey, like I said,” Chris protested, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t all me. I just chose the heated blanket and Coke.”

“Still,” I murmured, setting everything in my arms on the counter and wrapping my arms around his waist. I know it might’ve been weird considering our current ‘when we fuckin?’ situation, but it felt right. I needed to hug him and feel his warmth around me.

He hugged me back before chuckling, “I should probably get started on that mac and cheese.”

“I can help,” I said immediately, pulling back from the hug but keeping my arms around his waist. Chris shook his head decidedly. I raised an eyebrow, “What?”

“You are going to put on a pair of those fuzzy socks, turn on that heated blanket and listen to that playlist Marc said is specifically made for days like these,” he asserted but his hands were resting on my shoulders. “Go on ahead.”

“Yes, sir,” I muttered sarcastically. I felt Chris freeze for a moment before smirking at me. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, brushing hair out of my face. I felt a shiver run down my spine but I maintained eye contact with him. He said nothing but kept his fingers in my hair.

I cleared my throat and smiled at him, walking away from that weird sexual tension that was going on. I got to the couch, putting on my socks and plugging in the electric blanket before asking, “Could I go wash off my makeup, please?”

I didn’t know what compelled me to ask permission but I asked. I mean, he was in charge of making my day better — so currently, he was in charge.

“Yeah, honey, go ahead,” he told me, popping his head out of the kitchen. His expression was confused but then he added, “Take out your contacts too.”

I told him a quick thanks before running off to my bathroom. I looked in my mirror and grimaced. This face was certainly not one that was going to be sealing the deal today. Nuh uh, no, siree. 

While I would’ve loved to fuck Chris, my self-esteem was not up for being knocked down even more. I couldn’t possibly bear to be naked in front of him, especially after how self-conscious I was about my legs after today. I didn’t know when I would gain any sense of confidence back for the time being and while it sucked ass, it was just a reality.

Washing off my makeup and taking out my contacts only took minutes, but my horrible hair was all over the place and I couldn’t bring myself to do much about it. Giving up, I walked back into my living room with my hairbrush in hand. I plugged my phone into the iHome in the living room and started the playlist. Chris walked out soon after. He’d taken off his hoodie as well, leaving him in just jeans and a white shirt. “Okay, mac and cheese is in the oven. It’ll be done soon and — Is Beyonce playing?”

“Duh, this is the playlist,” I laughed, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “It’s supposed to help with my self confidence.”

“Who else is on this playlist?” he asked, settling down next to me on the couch. 

“Just the trio of Queens,” I replied, running the brush over my hair to get rid of the tangles. “It’s Beyonce, Rihanna and Nicki Minaj.”

“Do ya dance to it?” 

“No, I don’t dance until I get drunk, Christopher,” I snorted. “You know that very well.”

“I do, I do,” he seemed very pleased with himself. I remembered how fun those nights had been and I deflected because… I don’t know why. I just did.

“You know, Marc considers himself Beyonce. Char is Rihanna and I’m Nicki,” I spoke plainly, not caring if Chris really knew what I was talking about.

“Um?”

“Char being Rihanna is the most obvious choice,” I elaborated more on the how rather than why. “She’s tough and totally ready to fight people. Marc is Beyonce but only because he says he’s the oldest and wisest. He’s not really wise. We have no other reason though.”

“And you’re Nicki Minaj because?” 

“She’s fuckin’ crazy. In the best way possible, of course,” I clarified. “And I’m crazy as fuck.”

“I don’t know if I think you’re—“ 

“Oh, I am.”

“Well, what about me?” Chris’ smile was wide but I just laughed.

“I don’t think you’re like any one of them,” I giggled. “You can be… Justin Timberlake.”

“Well, I’d rather not be,” he wrinkled his nose and chuckled to himself. 

“Why not?”

“Long story,” he shrugged. “He’s with my ex.”

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed, remembering that Chris had previously dated Jessica Biel, who was now married to Justin Timberlake. “I forgot about that!”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m on good terms with her,” he smiled. “It’s no hard feelings, just a little awkward sometimes.”

“So I’m guessing you like Backstreet Boys over NSYNC?”

“Sim!” Chris chuckled but he nodded. So I was fucking right. “I Want It That Way is still my jam.”

“Sing it for me, Christopher,” I wiggled my eyebrows up and down. “It’ll make me feel better.”

“Will it?” he looked like he would really do it but I think Chris serenading me with old 90’s music would kill me. 

RIP, here lies Simran Grover. 

Cause of death: Chris Evans singing Backstreet Boys.

“No, don’t embarrass yourself,” I replied, sticking my tongue out.

We laughed together before Chris looked back at my hair.

“Marc told me you like getting your hair touched,” he said suddenly. 

“It is the best thing ever,” I sighed. 

He chuckled and shook his head, coming closer to me. “You’re such a cat.”

“Everyone loves getting their hair played with,” I replied surely. It was true. At least, for 99% of the planet’s population.

“Want a french braid?” he asked, as casually as if we were talking about the weather.

“You can braid?” I probably looked astonished because he smirked. 

“I had two sisters, I learned how to do all that stuff.”

“Can you only french braid?”

“Nah. I know how to dutch braid, fishtail, waterfall, and if you showed me some new braid, I could probably do it after a few tries.”

“Fair enough,” I nodded with a grin. “Okay, french braid my hair, Christopher.”

He took the brush my hand, telling me to sit on the floor between his legs. He said this was the way he had done it with his sisters, like how his mom had done it to them. I agreed as I removed my glasses, “This is the way my mother did it too, don’t worry.”

Attempting to be super gentle with my hair, Chris brushed slowly and meticulously. I tried to keep my eyes open but the feeling was amazing. When he finally got to braiding, I leaned my head into his hands. The sensation of his fingers on my scalp nearly made me moan in pleasure. I’m nearly 100% sure I purred.

“Okay, all done,” he said all too soon. I think I actually whined when he said so. Putting back on my glasses, I was sure I looked like a geek but I needed to see. I turned towards him still on my knees. Now facing him, I pouted. “I know, I know. it’s relaxing.”

“So relaxing,” I groaned, putting my forehead against one of his knees. This was now increasingly awkward, but I hadn’t realized yet. I mean, I was in between his legs and looking up at him. Seems like this was a position I had been in a few weeks ago. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, running the back of his hand of my cheek. He sighed to himself before shifting to get up, “I should go check on the food.”

I got out of his way and wrapped myself around the electric blanket for a few moments. Just for some moments of peace. 

“Sim, Simran,” Chris was softly whispering and barely moving me. I shot up, pushing myself up on my elbows, and almost knocking heads with him. He had one knee on the couch as he towered over me. “Hey sweetheart.”

“Shit, sorry, what happened?” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep. I adjusted the crooked glasses on my face and wiped my mouth in case of drool.

“I let you nap for a little bit,” he looked sheepish. “I wanted to set the table and let the food cool.”

“How long did I sleep for?” I frowned, now worried that I slept away the time we had together.

“Just for half an hour,” he smiled and his eyes did the crinkling thing I loved so much.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure it’s been a long day,” Chris told me, his voice gentle. The music had been turned off, probably by the time he’d noticed I’d fallen asleep. “Come on, everything’s ready.”

He tugged on my hand and led me to the dining table. I rubbed more of the sleep from my eyes and sat down as he pulled a chair out for me. He’d cleared everything off the dining table and gotten the bowls and silverware out. 

“You’re literally the best,” I sighed, ready to dig into my mac and cheese.

“Tell me that after you eat,” he replied, already stuffing his face with food. Even when he was stuffing his face, he was cute. It was real fucking unfair.

“You are literally the best,” I repeated, groaning after taking a bite. “I will sell my soul to get you to make me this whenever I want.”

Chris grinned shyly, “You don’t have to do that. In exchange for making you mac and cheese whenever you want, you can make me chai all the time.”

“That’s fair,” I raised my eyebrow. “Deal!”

He cleared his throat and shoveled more food into his mouth. “Finish your food, so we can eat ice cream.”

“Yes, sir,” I scoffed jokingly. 

“Don’t call me that,” he laughed a little but tried to seem serious.

I furrowed my brows but said, “Alright, gramps. I won’t.”

We ate quickly but had small talk. I asked him about Boston and he didn’t shut up about it. Not that it was bad. He was adorable when he was happily speaking about his favorite place in the world. I wish I was that happy about something.

“—and the kids never stopped following me. Miles and I are real good buddies,” Chris was saying but I was lost in my own head. He noticed fairly quickly. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“You’ve made more than 14 million dollars this year and I’m only gonna get a penny?” I sassed and his lips quirked up. 

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it now?” he tread carefully. I bit my lip, getting up to put away our empty dishes. Grabbing our bowls, I walked into the kitchen with him following. “We don’t have to, but you know, if you want to.”

“I—Can we wait for a bit longer?” I bit my lip to keep from talking about it. I didn’t want to ruin the mood just yet. I mean, I already was just by moping around but I didn’t want to ruin the mood to the point of no return yet.

“Sure, we don’t need to talk about it. You just looked like you wanted to,” Chris explained, rubbing the back of his neck as I placed the dishes in the sink. I’d noticed everything else in the kitchen was spotless, no pots or pans from cooking were out, and turned back to him.

“Did you already do the dishes?” 

“While you were sleeping, yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair and waited for me to say something. “I didn’t want you to have to worry about anything, I’ll do these dishes too.”

“No, that’s okay,” I told him, shocked that he already cleaned up some. “You’re the guest.”

“You’re the one who needs cheering up,” Chris replied, carefully moving me away from the sink. “Now let’s go use those face masks and eat some ice cream.”

I put on my face mask first, the one for pores, as Chris finished washing the dishes. Then he joined me in my bathroom, asking me to put the moisturizing face mask on him. I told him, “Good choice too, because white people get wrinkles very easily.”

“Very true,” he agreed with a small smile. He sat on the closed toilet seat as I stood between his legs. I was still barely taller than him in this position but it worked enough for me to help get the mask on him. “Especially since I’m getting old.”

“Especially since you’re getting old,” I repeated teasingly as I gently slathered the orange goo on his forehead. “You’re such an old man.”

“I’m the old man? You’re the one with those dorky glasses,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows at me. It made it harder to keep the mask from peeling so I glared. “Very librarian-esque.”

“I’m not wearing them at the moment,” I laughed, “but they are not librarian-esque. Shut up before I ‘accidentally’ get some goo in your eye.”

“Put them on again, they’re cute,” Chris bit his lip to stop his grin from spreading. 

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll put them back on in seventeen minutes when I wash off this mask.”

“Good.”

“Shut up, Christopher.”

When he was done, we got our ice cream from the freezer and stood at the kitchen counter to eat. It was silent for minutes as Chris ate his ice cream with enthusiasm. 

“This is so good,” he moaned, digging his spoon into the tub and shoving it towards me. “Try it.”

“Here, try mine too,” I did the same as him, offering my own ice cream as he pushed his spoon into my mouth. I laughed and nodded. “It’s so good.”

“I love ice cream,” he sighed in a way that sounded content. 

“Me too, grandpa, me too.”

“Just eat your ice cream, Simran,” Chris shook his head with a smirk. “You know, if we’re going to… Do stuff, you can’t call me grandpa.”

“Yes I can,” I replied simply, taking a bite of my ice cream. 

“I wouldn’t be able to take it seriously,” he laughed, licking his spoon. 

I wanna lick his spoon.

Okay, fuck, shut up, Simran.

The timer I put on my phone went off before I could replied.

“Time to wash these things off!” I said, closing the lid on my tub as Chris licked the last remnants of ice cream off his spoon and fingers. I wanted to die just seeing that. It would probably forever be ingrained in my mind.

“I’ll put it all away, you wash yours off first,” he sighed, grabbing my tub and walking towards the kitchen. The orange mask on the upper half of his face was adorable and I couldn’t get over the fact that he’d done it with me.

I ran off to the bathroom, washing the mask off and patting my face dry. Chris came in by the time I put my glasses back on and waited patiently until I gave him enough room to wash off his own mask. I let him use my face moisturizer afterwards, he probably needed it more than I did.

We were settling back into the couch to watch The Office when I looked down at my lap. Seeing my thighs, I felt disgusting. Chris didn’t seem to notice but I felt embarrassed. He pressed play on the episode and I battled my insecurity.

“The casting director said I had weird legs,” I admitted all of the sudden. 

“What?”

“He said my legs were odd and that I’d need stilts if I wanted the role.”

“That’s…”

“And I know it’s not the worst thing that’s ever been said to me but it sucks. I hate my legs and people always bring them up. I know I’m short! I know that, and most of the time, the jokes are funny but I’m trying to find a living. This sucks. I wish I was 5’10” or something,” I ranted, not letting Chris get a word in.

“Sim—“

“It’s such fucking bullshit, because if I could get some sort of surgery to be taller, I would do it in an instant.”

“You don’t nee—“

“Like, I get that I’m not a super model. I’m not going to walk down Victoria’s Secret runway or be the lead in a movie, but it sucks. I hate my legs, they’re so fucking unattractive.”

“They are not,” Chris snapped, making sure I didn’t interrupt him again. In between all of my ranting, he’d paused the show. “They’re perfect.”

I scoffed, but he gave me a serious look. 

“Don’t,” he shook his head, looking almost angry. “So, you’re small. Who cares? It’s adorable. It makes you who you are.”

“It makes sure I don’t get roles,” I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. We’d shifted to where we were facing each other on the couch and our knees were touching.

“Sim, you’re beautiful. Your legs are beautiful,” he told me, carefully putting his hand on my knee. It felt warm and comforting. “Your legs are like… Like… They’re like butterfly antennas.”

I felt my face burn up as I scrunched up my nose, “What the fuck kind of compliment is that?!”

“I don’t know,” Chris chuckled softly. “But it’s true. They’re delicate and soft and perfectly shaped.”

“That’s not—“

“Don’t disagree with me, Sim, please,” he pleaded. He looked like he was thinking of something, like he had an idea. “I can… Show you.”

The fuck? “What do you mean?”

“You’re beautiful and I can show you, if you’re okay with that,” he waited for me to respond but I just gaped at him. What the fuck does he mean by showing me? “We don’t have to do anything specific, you know.”

“We… I… I hate my couch, can we go to my room?” I managed to get out, still trying to understand exactly what we were talking about right now. 

I got up, glancing back to make sure he followed me. When we got into my room, I took my hair out of the french braid Chris had done. It was messy and most of my hair fell out of it after my nap anyway. We stood in the doorway of my room, looking anywhere but at each other. 

He glanced at me apprehensively. “We don’t have to do anything, it was just a suggestion.”

“That’s fine,” I nodded, pursing my lips. “Just to be clear, we’re making out.”

“Yeah, sure,” he encouraged me, nodding his head quickly. “Let’s make out.”

“This isn’t awkward at all,” I giggled to myself as I sat myself on the edge of my bed. Chris followed suit and looked at me, worry evident on his beautiful features.

“We really don’t need to do anything if you don’t want to,” he reassured me, brushing some of my hair out of my face. I rolled my eyes and shifted closer.

“Let’s just make out so I can forget about this bullshit day, I guess,” I grumbled now crawling onto his lap. He looked surprised, similar to the last time I’d been in his lap, but it seemed easier this time. I placed my legs on either side of his hips and guided his hands to my hips. 

“Why is it that you always end up on top?” Chris mumbled but he just seemed amused. “I’m gonna say it one more time, though, we really don’t need to do any—“

I pressed my lips against his, cutting off his words. 

He tasted like Cookies and Cream. I wanted more of it.

His hands gripped my hips tighter but he didn’t pull away. He rubbed circles on my hip bones as I took hold of his broad shoulders. His jeans were pressed right up against the underwear I had on and it reminded me of the friction from last time.

Last time.

Fuck. No matter what we were doing right now, I was not fucking Chris for the first time ever when I was this upset. Just stick to making out.

He pulled away and I opened my eyes to see what was happening. Grabbing my thighs, he wrapped them around his waist and shifted around. Suddenly, I was on my back. He was moving us up towards the pillows easily. I wound my arms around his neck as we tried to get comfortable. 

Chris smirked, “I wanna be on top this time. I’m never on top.” 

“Cause you’re gonna crush me,” I murmured, my lips brushing against his.

His smirk fell immediately. “Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

I rolled my eyes but smiled, “Fucking kiss me, Christopher.”

“Yes, ma’am,” our noses touched first as he pushed his lips against mine. He was so casual and I was so not. I wished I could be as at ease as him. It was probably because I was the one making out with an Adonis and he was making out with just me. 

He pulled away again and laughed, “Can I take your glasses off? They’re pressing against my face and I’m sure it’s not comfortable for you either.” 

I took them off, folding them and placing them on the nightstand next to my bed. I wrinkled my nose in apology, “Sorry, I forget about them sometimes.”

Chris kissed me in response. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he kissed down to my neck. I ran my fingers through his hair while he pressed open mouthed kisses on my shoulder and collarbone. 

I sighed softly, moving my head so he could get in easier. His beard felt heavenly. I wanted it scraping against my skin forever.

His hand snaked up from my thigh to my hip, brushing against my panties underneath my sweater. Not making a move to go forward, he kept his thumb there to rub back and forth. What a tease.

I moved my arms from around his neck to push them under his T-shirt, feeling his hard abdomen. Thank God for his abs. They felt nice and warm and so fucking perfect. 

Pulling back for air, Chris pressed his forehead against mine. “You know, I feel… Like I owe you. I didn’t do anything last time. Not like you did.”

“I—What?”

“You, we did stuff, but not,” he stumbled over his words before heaving a sigh. I could smell the Cookies and Cream from his breath in the close proximity. “We could do some more stuff, if you want.”

“Stuff is such a vague word,” I said, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion.

“I want to return the favor,” he buried his face into my neck. I guess that was good because I didn’t know what my face looked like right now. “You know, because you deserve it. I owe you.”

“Christopher,” I sighed exasperatedly. “This is not the time to make a statement.”

“It’s the principle of the thing!” Chris protested, his voice muffled as he spoke into my neck.

“I got off last time,” I argued. 

“Doesn’t matter because I wasn’t the one who got you off. I was too fucking shocked to actually do anything, you got off because of yourself. It doesn’t count!”

Well, he got me there.

I didn’t reply as I tried to mull over his words. Before I knew it, Chris kissed down my stomach, and in the haze I didn’t realize what he was doing. “Wait. Stop.”

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Um. I just… I don’t like…receiving.”

"You don't like getting eaten out?” he repeated, more bluntly obviously. He seemed surprised but I just shrugged.

I didn’t like oral sex. It was always sloppy, done in fifteen seconds, and just awkward as fuck for both parties. But especially my party since the guy would ask if I came or not and I’d nod vigorously. So, from previous history, I didn’t like receiving.

I mean, I had limited sexual history. But still.

"I don't know, the guys I've been with have never really been good."

"Well, not to sound cocky, but I've been told I'm very good.” His eyes twinkled and he looked adorable even though we were talking about very naughty things.

"Oh yeah? You even know where the clit is?” I challenged, getting up to rest on my elbows.

Chris was amused if his smile said anything. He had his chin my thigh, the beard tickling my skin. I wondered what it would feel like... "The first time I had sex, I raced home and told my mom. I asked her where the clit was!"

"And she told you? Actually, never mind, I cannot believe you brought up your mother at this time. You're literally about to go down on me and we're talking about your m-Oh!"

Chris was mouthing at me through my panties now, ignoring my ramblings. Smart.

He seemed so eager to please and I was already excited to be his fuck buddy. If this was how he treated his friends with benefits, imagine the lucky women who got to be his girlfriend. He was probably a generous lover and I’d never encountered one.

It felt good but… I was nervous and didn't want to give it away. We (I think) wanted to do this. He wanted to do this. I wanted to do, or at least try, this. I just couldn't shake my nerves. 

"Relax," he murmured, his warm breath on the outside of my panties and his beard tickling my thighs. 

He slowly pulled my sweater up to show my stomach. I stopped him for a moment, “I don’t want my sweater off.”

"Sim," he whispered, almost whining. 

“We can do this, I just don’t want to be naked,” I admitted, still feeling self conscious. I changed a glance at him. He was smiling, trying to encourage me to relax. I responded with a small smile of my own and he nodded. 

He pushed the sweater up enough to be able to pull down my panties. Lifting my hips to help him, I then leaned back to make space for him. He settled down between my legs, laying but propped on his elbows. 

I watched Chris lick his lips in preparation. He was staring and I felt my cheeks heating up. He could see everything, almost as though he could see through me. When he glanced up, he gave me the same smile he gave me when I was in the middle of his blow job. 

That same sexy smile. 

He propped my knees up and I scoot further back to my pillows. He crawled after me, a mischievous grin on his beautiful face. He bowed his head to kiss my bare mound. 

I knew he knew I was tense about this. What I didn't know was how he was going to go about changing it. I didn't want him to be disappointed when he didn't make me climax. None of my previous partners had been able to. 

"Chris," I began.

His tongue interrupted me. Warm and wet, it darted between my folds and slid up to my clit. 

I lost my train of thought. I couldn't stop him now that he started. He lay himself down, his face flush against my vulva. His left hand came up and pressed my shoulder down against my pillows. I could feel his hot breath against me and I fought the urge to squirm. His hand slipped under my sweater to my chest and playfully brushed against my right nipple. 

The warm, wet sensation hit me again, this time exploring my folds instead of teasing my nerve endings. His beard was tickling me but in the good way, the perfect way.

Taking a deep breath, I spread my legs further to give him better access. If he was going to give it his best shot, the least I could do is give him a better chance. 

He licked me up and down once more before pressing his tongue flat against my opening, trying to run as much sensitive surface area as he could. He slowly dipped his tongue into me, tasting me. He gave a quiet moan and looked up at me with a hungry look. I met his eyes and shuddered. 

Slowly, his tongue circled my clit again and his right hand danced its way up my thigh and up to my folds. He pressed one finger into me, pumping slowly and trying to build friction inside while his mouth kissed and sucked at my clit.

I stared at him, silently, trying to take in all that he was doing. I felt more of my own liquids begin to pool between my legs and he made a sound of approval. 

With his right hand still working hard and his mouth on me, his left hand began to tease my nipples under the sweater, rubbing and pinching. I raised my chest to him, silently asking for more. He stopped his ministrations on my lower half to appease me. 

He mouthed on my breasts against the fabric of the sweater until I had goosebumps. I ran a hand through his hair, teasingly scratching his scalp. 

He began to nibble on me, making sure I felt the sensation through the clothing. He left a trail from my chest up to my right ear. 

"Give yourself to me," he whispered. His voice was husky and sexual and I could’ve orgasmed right then. The desperation in his voice killed me, “Please, Sim.”

Involuntarily, I pressed up against him. I guess it was my body's way of saying "yes, yes, take me!" because I probably seemed desperate as hell. In the moment, I didn’t care. I let out a small sigh and gave him a chaste kiss before he went back down on me. 

This time, he used two fingers inside and kept eye contact as his lips and tongue worked their magic. My mouth fell open and I watched him, mesmerized. I felt pressure building inside my abdomen. 

I began to remember the heat between us on set, how he calmed me down and riled me up at the same time. I slowly raised my hips to meet the rhythm of his fingers. He hummed against my clit and teased his tongue along my folds again. 

There it was. The fire that meant an impending climax. I braced myself for the disappointment, knowing that his hard work wasn't going to be realized. 

Suddenly, his left arm went across my stomach and pulled me closer to him. His hand gripped my hip tightly and his tongue worked even more furiously than before. My muscles tensed tighter and tighter. I closed my eyes, giving myself to the sensations. 

I gasped softly. The waves of pleasure rippled through me, taking my breath away. He didn’t stop until the aftershocks were done. I was shaking as he moved up my body to kiss me again. He stayed between my legs, his jeans pressing against my sensitive area.

I squirmed and rubbed my face, slowly opening my eyes to see him smiling sweetly at me. 

"Wow," I choked out, my face burning up. “Good job.” 

He laughed, pressing his face against the pillow next to me. “Thanks?”

“I should be the one saying that,” I replied, still out of breath. I realized this was what Chris felt like after I’d given him a blowjob. The tables had turned, now I was the one who sounded like I’d ran five miles. 

Chris ran his nose down my throat and hummed. “That was fun, but Marc and the girls are going to be here soon.”

“What?!” The cloudy, post-orgasm haze wore off immediately as I tried to push his heavy body off of me. 

“It’s fine, we have time,” he assured me, “But, Simran, never think about yourself like that again.” I wrinkled my nose and he kissed it in response. 

He smugly handed me back my panties as he continued, “i’m serious. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to come back and do this all over again.”

I hummed, more confident than I'd ever been before with him. "Is that a threat?"

His eyes darkened at my tease and his reply was gruff, "It's a promise.”


	20. Chapter Twenty

“So, you’re saying you don’t want Steve with Sharon Carter like it is in the comics?” Chris was side-eying me, trying to see the inner workings of my mind. I just smiled to myself as I though of my answer.

Currently, we were sitting at his dinner table , which was made for six even though only one guy lived here. I would’ve given him shit for it but it seemed sad. Besides, he probably had his family visit sometimes. Maybe I’d invite myself and the girls over one day to fill up the table for a bit? If I wasn’t overstepping any boundaries. 

Anyway, we were in formal wear. Like, party formal wear. Aka, me in heels that were hard to walk in and a tight dress that was loaned to me. As in, Chris in a fucking nice ass black suit and tie. My hormones couldn’t handle it but I’ll explain why we were dressed like this in a second. Right now, I needed to rant about his looks.

He looked handsome, as always. Did I even need to say so? Yes, because daaaamn. Come on, on a hotness scale of one to ten, he was at least a twenty-five. And on his especially good days? He couldn’t even possibly be ranked, he would break the scale.

It’d been the first time we saw each other since, well, when he returned the favor, and thank God, I looked good. Actually, I looked really fucking good. On the same hotness scale, I was probably a seven right now! Way better than my usual three.

We’d gone to some Gucci-funded New Years’ Eve party, at some swanky hotel with a bunch of snotty people I did not want to converse with. We left super early, with Chris suggesting we go to his place and eat some Thai food. 

The best way to ring in the New Year.

You’d expect it to be awkward with us. But, in all honesty, we didn’t have the time to be awkward. Chris certainly didn’t make me feel awkward, which was great. He was a sweet guy who tried to make sure both he and everyone around him was comfortable and happy. I really liked that about him.

“I know it’s in the comics, Christopher. I just don’t think Steve should be with Peggy, anymore anyway, or Sharon,” I replied, ruffling my now loose hair. “Nothing against either of the women. They’re fucking great.”

The hairstylist had done a great job, my dark hair swept all to one side and with a deep side part, curls voluminous and bouncy. I loved how it looked, but God, how many fucking bobby pins did she stick in my damn hair? I counted twenty-five and Chris even helped take some out. 

He adjusted his black tie, laughing and shaking his head, “Who should he possibly be with? You’re not still hoping for Natasha, are you?”

“Nah, that boat has sailed,” I sighed in mock sadness, pouting at him. “I think he should be with no one at all. Or Bucky.”

“Marvel wouldn’t allow that. They’re not progressive enough to,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulders. And he was right, but it sucked. “So, who else do you think could take the place of Bucky?”

“You’re not laughing at me for wanting him with Bucky?” 

“No, I can see why,” he shrugged but I could see the small smile on his face as he looked down at his finished plate. “But it’s also probably because you’d just love to see me and Sebastian Stan make out.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” I teased, picking at the last of my Pad Thai. “I could just say Steve should be with Johnny Storm.”

Chris snorted as he took a swig of his beer, “So, you’d love to see me make out with myself. That’s some movie magic.”

“No, but really, there’s no one else in the Marvel Cinematic Universe I’d want him with,” I laughed before thinking for a moment. “Now, if we’re talking outside that realm, I’d say me.”

He chortled, looking at me disbelievingly, “You want Steve Rogers to be with you?”

“Duh,” I smacked his arm to get him to stop laughing. “You know how awesome he is. He’s got a beautiful shoulder-to-waist ratio, he’s respectful, and he’s probably loaded.”

“Very true,” he said in an appreciative manner. “I’d want to be with Steve Rogers too.”

“Ha ha, so funny,” I bobbed my head sarcastically as he stuck his tongue out at me. It was a nice quiet for a few moments as I finished my plate and Chris sipped his beer.

“You look amazing,” he told me casually as he picked up our dishes and took them presumably to his sink. He disappeared into the kitchen, so I gathered courage to reply.

“Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself,” I tried to play it off, you know, act casual like he did. He came back out with a smirk on his face.

“Obviously not as good as you though.”

“I never got to tell you thank you for the Christmas gifts,” I said, changing the subject abruptly. His lips twitched upwards as he ducked his head. “Archie loves her presents and Maya was over the moon.”

“Those girls deserve the world,” he sighed as he finally removed his suit jacket. We’d literally came in and ate right away, not even bothering to kick our shoes off. That reminded me, I needed these heels ten miles away from my feet now.

Chris had been in Boston for Christmas, it was his favorite place in the world, after all. But he’d sent us our gifts unexpectedly. He was an incredibly perceptive, thoughtful gift giver. He would pick out a word or interest a person had and latch onto it, making sure the receiver liked the item they got.

He’d given Archie two One Direction posters (one personally signed) and their concert tickets with back stage passes for late February. She had about died when she saw the tickets and she called him right away, thanking him profusely. I originally refused, with him spending so much money, but he said it was a combined birthday present and he couldn’t get ticket refunds anyway. I had a feeling he lied but he seemed so happy that she was happy.

Maya had gotten a shitload of coloring books with all kinds of markers, colored pencils and crayons. She’d grow out of it soon enough, or maybe not, but for this year she was extremely happy. He also bought her a bunch of cranberry juice, adding to her weird obsession with it.

As for me… Chris gave me a box set of the Star Wars movies, along with a Captain America teddy bear (fucking adorable!) and an eyeshadow palette I’d been lusting after for a few months now. 

I remember telling Chris that I’d seen and loved Star Wars but didn’t own the movies and that the girls had never seen them as well. He had just said “Outrageous!” in response. I didn’t realize what that meant at the time. 

“And thank you for my gifts, too,” I added, biting my lip. “We didn’t do nearly enough for you.”

Because I didn’t have much money left over this month. But I wasn’t going to say that out loud. It’s not like it was hard to realize it. I was a little stressed out and Chris picked up on that easily.

“Maya drew me the cutest picture ever of us all, Archie printed me out copies of your baby pictures and you gave me a coupon that said ‘Lifetime supply of chai tea from Simran’, so I’m pretty fucking set.”

“Archie did what?” I questioned, my voice going up a pitch higher. “You need to burn those immediately. So help me God, Christopher.”

“They’re adorable,” Chris assured me as he grabbed my elbow to pull me up. “Best presents a guy could ask for.”

“Yeah, right,” I rolled my eyes while he led us to his living room. He gestured for me to sit down and I did so immediately.

“You know what we haven’t done in a while?” his eyes gleamed mischievously as he loosened the tie around his neck. If he was talking about something sexual, I was so fucking game. He nodded towards his TV, “Let’s watch The Office.”

Oh. Well, he was right. We hadn’t done that in a while. Last time we’d even started the show, I’d ended up unloading my fucking insecurities on him so he hadn’t gotten to watch much. After that, he ate me out and I actually orgasmed, so that was a plus though. For me.

“Where are you at?” I asked as he moved to turn on the TV. 

“Still on season four,” he said, shooting me a sheepish smile over his shoulder. He looked glorious in the dress pants that encased his ass perfectly. I bet I was drooling.

I was apparently really fucking horny tonight.

“Well, good, I love that season,” I smiled back. Chris seated himself closer to me than before when the theme song started to play. 

I tried not to stare. Really, I did. But it’s so hard not to when the hottest guy in the world is sitting right next to you, laughing with you. I think we watched two full episodes, laughing together at the screen. I lost track because I kept looking at him instead of watching the show.

In the meantime, he’d rolled up his shirt sleeves and taken off his shoes. I’d probably done some damage to myself, namely my hair and smudging my makeup somehow. My dress was getting wrinkled, as well. I didn’t care though, I just kept glancing at him.

He finally caught me and did a double take, looking back at my face before I could look away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I mumbled, biting on my lip nervously as I moved my head back to the TV. 

Chris reached over, grasping my jaw softly to turn my head back towards him. His face was so close to me now, our noses were nearly touching. He looked so focused on me, I felt my face flush. 

He ran his thumb over my bottom lip to release it from my teeth as he murmured, “This lip biting thing is sexy and all, but you really need to stop chewing on it because you’ll rip it off.”

His eyes were wide and so very fucking blue. I exhaled softly, my lips parting as he moved in closer. His lips brushed against mine when he whispered, “Is this okay?”

I gulped, trying to act like my normal self. “What, you tryin’ to take things slow, old man?”

I felt more than saw Chris smile against my lips before he kissed me with ease. The hand not holding my face weaved into my hair, pulling me closer to him.

My hands, which had been resting in my lap, reached out to touch whatever I could. They finally rested on his chest as I shifted in my seat, mirroring the force of the kisses Chris gave me. We stayed like that for a while, just kissing. Not even tongue!

“Hold on, pause the show,” I whispered against his lips. “You are not missing a minute of it just because we’re doing this.”

He chuckled but did as told, moving only slightly to grab the remote and turn off the TV. Now in silence, he turned back to me with a questioning look. I wished he didn’t do that. I didn’t even know what he was really asking.

I sat up straight, shifting my body so that I could crawled towards him with the intent to sit on his lap. He leaned over, meeting my lips eagerly as I lifted my somewhat tight dress to my upper thighs. I threw a leg over his lap, seating myself against his semi-hard erection as I straddled him. 

He groaned into the kiss as his hands pressed against my back, both of them basically covering the entire extent of it. I allowed myself the pleasure of fucking up his hair, grasping the strands with one hand as the other trailed down his chest.

Chris pulled away to breathe as my hand went lower, near the belt of his dress pants. My anxiety rose as he looked me in the eye again. The eye contact was kind of fucking me up. He looked so intense, the blue of his eyes nearly gone as his pupils dilated. 

“What?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing as I tried to gauge his reaction. 

I unbuckled his belt as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Finally, he decided on saying, “Are you—What do you want to—Sim, I’m—“

“Listen, Christopher. I’m horny as fuck and if you are too, then I suggest we do this right now,” I spoke, running my lips from his covered shoulder to his ear. Nibbling on his earlobe, I could hear his intake of breath.

I felt him shiver underneath me, “Jesus Christ, yeah, okay.”

“Good,” I resumed kissing him, unzipping his pants and rubbing on the outside of his underwear. He grabbed handfuls of my ass, nearly pushing my dress up to my waist. Chris pulled away again and I made sure he saw me jokingly roll my eyes. 

“Wait. Do—Do I need a Shield?”

I stopped kissing him, stopped rubbing him, and processed what he was saying. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

I could see his face turning red as he laughed sheepishly, “Condom. I meant, do I need a condom?” He was the cutest person ever, you could quote me on that.

“You’re gonna tell me the story behind that after we’re done,” I teased. “No, I’m on birth control. But if you prefer condoms, go ahead.”

He shook his head quickly, his cheeks flushed and his lips so damn pink. Suddenly looking very focused and intense, Chris leaned forward to capture my lips again. I cradled his face with the hand not rubbing him down as he licked my bottom lip. I opened my mouth eagerly where his tongue coming out to play with mine. 

Chris moved his hands, one hooking onto my hip as the other slid up to the middle of my back. He gently pressed me down on the couch, not even leaving his rightful place between my legs. Resting my head on the arm of the couch, I sat up a bit so he could spread across the couch almost fully. 

With his lips peppering my neck with with warm, opened-mouthed kisses, I felt right at home. My hands grasped his arms, feeling the muscles bulge and stretch underneath his shirt with every one of his movements. He felt so warm and hard, so fucking perfect.

I asked myself if this was really happening when he reached down and pressed two fingers against my clit. I bit my lip to stifle a moan but Chris noticed the small sound, looking at my face as he touched me.

“You look so good like this, writhing under me,” he told me, his fingers pushing aside my panties to find my wet center. My eyes fluttered closed as he continued his ministrations, circling my clit slowly. “You’re so wet already, fuck.”

I didn’t know why he felt the need to talk. I mean, it felt nice to hear all this but… He didn’t actually mean the stuff he was saying. I’d think he was just trying to rile me up more, but I was already well-lubricated, so. Who knows? But I could go along with it.

“You smell so sweet, I remember how good you tasted,” Chris whispered, his voice deep and rough. I shuddered at the memory of the last time something like this had happened and how eagerly he’d tried to please me. “I can’t wait to do that again.”

He brushed his nose against my chin, nudging it upward so he could kiss down my throat. A small whimper escaped from my lips and Chris hummed happily, keeping his fingers insistently on my clit. My hips rose on their own accord, chasing the orgasm he was going to give me.

“You almost there, baby?” he asked but it sounded like he already knew the answer. His breath was warm on my neck and going down to the valley of my breasts as far as he could without hitting the dress. It was so strange to still be in my dress but I guess since he was also in his dress clothes, I wasn’t alone.

Holy fuck, so nothing really was wrong with me sexually. I could come pretty easily? It wasn’t that I was the only one who could make myself orgasm, I’d just needed a guy who actually knew what he was doing. Also, a guy who could talk dirty. Just a little.

I shivered as Chris licked along my cleavage, his fingers quickening and making sure I was fully ready for him. My hands tightened their grip on his biceps as I tried to raise my body. I was so close and his words were helping a lot. Like, a lot.

Noticing how close to climax I was, he moved from my breasts back up to my face. With his eyes dark and intense, his lips brushed mine with every word he said, “Come on, I want you to feel so fucking good. I want you to come, sweetheart. Do it. Do it right now.”

“Oh my God,” I moaned quietly into his mouth as I felt the familiar coil in my stomach snap. I felt light and warm and floaty. I loved orgasms. I especially loved orgasms given to me by him.

Chris didn’t stop circling his fingers on my oversensitive bud until I grabbed his wrist to interrupt his mission to give me a second climax. My thighs were quaking as he removed his hand. I loved orgasms but a girl needed to take a breather.

“Good girl, you’re so perfect,” he looked me right in the eyes, willing me to believe him. 

He gave me a weird look as I slowly got my heartbeat and breathing under control. I could only imagine how messy and roughed up I looked by now but his expression didn’t give any real indication. I mean, I was guessing it was because I looked bad. 

Taking a deep breath, I looked up at him a bit hesitantly. Chris’ eyebrows quirked up as I used my feet to push his pants down. Getting the hint, he helped by moving his shirt up and pushing his boxer briefs down enough to pull out his cock, angling it so the head brushed against my wet folds. 

“What are you waiting for, Evans?” my voice was low and throaty, the arousal I felt still evident even as I mocked him. 

This was happening so quickly I almost couldn’t process it, but I was to blame for that. I was the impatient one egging him on. But who cared about slow? This wasn’t about feelings. This was about sex. Just sex. We were just having sex. It was nothing.

Chris rolled his eyes but smirked at me, now seeming so much more confident since I’d already orgasmed. Rubbing the tip of his penis against my wetness, he was clearly dragging it out. I knew he was doing it just to fuck with me, because he had a smug smile on his stupid, handsome face. 

It was wiped off as soon as he started pressing into me, but I didn’t have time to be amused because the mix of pleasure and pain was overwhelming. I wrapped my legs around his narrow waist as my breath hitched. 

Brushing my hair out of my face, the worry was evident on his face, “You okay?”

I exhaled and nodded slowly, speaking in a small voice, “Just… Let me adjust for a second. Go slow at first, please?”

It’d really been a while, I was beginning to think there were cobwebs down there. Him being bigger than the other two I’d been with coupled with the fact that it’d been years since the last time I’d done this meant accommodating to the stretch took a moment. Finally wiggling my hips slightly, I let him know it was okay to move.

When he was fully seated into me, he let out a low moan into my shoulder. It was one of the sexiest things I’d ever heard in my entire life. I bit my lip as he spoke into my skin, “So fucking warm. You’re so tight and perfect for me.”

He really had a way with words, Jesus fucking Christ.

Chris pulled out slightly, shifting so that he was all around me, surrounding me. With one hand bracing the arm of the couch my head was resting on, he lowered himself so that I was trapped underneath him. 

I certainly wasn’t having a problem with that, especially when the thumb of his free hand grazed my clit. I jumped at the contact, letting out a shuddering exhale as he thrusted into me again. 

He went slow and deep, making sure his thumb played with my bundle of nerves insistently. My legs tightened around him and I bit my lip to keep from making sounds. He was nuzzled into my neck, rubbing his beard against the skin and then kissing the burns. 

“I love your neck,” he mumbled, thrusting deeply as he ran his lips down my throat. My eyes almost rolled into the back of my head as he bit down, still pushing into me consistently.

Fucking God, he knew exactly what to do. 

With his hand on my clit, his mouth on my neck, and him inside me sliding in and out, I was so close to coming again. I felt so warm with his body weight on top of mine, felt so light as I reached closer to climax. 

“Please,” I whimpered into his hair, my voice so quiet I almost thought he didn’t hear me.

“Please what, honey?” he lifted his head, looking at me with dark eyes and a sly grin. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop from feeling so embarrassed. 

“I-I need it,” I managed to get out, my nails digging into his shoulders as I tried to roll my hips for more friction. “More.”

“One condition,” he told me, slowing down enough for me to nearly whine. “Say my name.”

Feeling annoyance but obliging, I muttered, “Christopher.”

“Nah-uh,” he grunted, snapping his hips against me nice and deep. “Say Chris. Say Chris like a good girl.”

I paused, pretending to think about it but realizing that I just wanted to fucking come.

“Mm, Chris,” I moaned into his ear softly before biting on his earlobe. “Chris, please.”

“Fuck, that was better than I imagined,” he whispered, kissing my jaw as he thrusted into me faster, rolling my clit harder. “Such a good girl for me. Come, baby, come for me.”

The combination of his actions and words overwhelmed me, making me feel everything at once. I tightened around him, feeling my walls clench around him as my second orgasm washed over me. He groaned, his hips erratically thrusting as he followed me.

Chris carefully made sure he didn’t crush me, but remained on top of me as we caught our breath. His forehead pressed against mine and I felt his warm puffs of breath on my face. 

“I can’t believe you’re still wearing this tie,” I smirked against his lips, my eyes still closed, but my hand grasping said article of clothing.

“I can’t believe we’re both still fully clothed,” he countered.

“Oh boo hoo,” I teased now opening my eyes to see his pouty face. 

“We haven’t even seen each other naked!”

“Actually, Christopher, we’ve been basically naked together,” I corrected him. “We have Gucci Guilty to thank for that.”

“Well, thank you Gucci,” he mumbled and I could feel his breathless laugh on my neck. I laughed too, a bit giddy. I didn’t even have the ability to process the information that I just fucking slept with Chris Evans.

We fucked.

We had sex.

We did it.

Holy fucking shit. 

“I’m gonna go clean myself off,” I murmured, pushing him off of me as I stood up. My thighs quaked, but I pushed my dress down and ran my fingers through my hair. I needed a moment to breath (and clean up too, obviously) but I felt bad for being abrupt.

A few minutes to myself in the bathroom was all I needed and when I got back, Chris was actually taking off his pants and not putting them back on. I sent him a curious look. 

“It’s hot as fuck right now,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “Plus, I figured since it’s not too late, we could change and watch some more episodes.”

“What do you have that’ll fit me?” I asked, open to the idea.

“Hold on, stay right here,” he grinned, bounding up the stairs.

“Make sure to pee, Christopher! Always pee after an orgasm!” I called after him, partially teasing but also serious. That was a rule everyone needed to follow, helped to make sure you didn’t get UTIs. 

“I know that, Sim!” he yelled back, sounding a lot like a teenager sassing back his mother. I giggled at his tone and heard a flush not long after. 

He came down the stairs with a pair of boxer briefs and a white T-shirt in hand. Coincidentally, he’d taken off his tie and dress shirt so that was also exactly what he was wearing. I raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, “Really Christopher? You think your clothes are going to fit me?”

“They’ll work for the time being! It’s just to be comfortable,” he smiled sheepishly, handing me the clothes.

“Thank you,” I softened at his expression. He was only trying to be nice, Simran. Don’t be a fucking asshole all the time. He just gave you two orgasms. “It’ll be a hell of a lot more comfortable than this dress.”

“You look phenomenal in the dress, though,” Chris told me earnestly. 

“You mean, my boobs and ass look phenomenal in the dress,” I teased, turning my back to make my way to Chris’ bathroom again. He didn’t deny anything, so I just shut the door and peeled out of the dress to change as quick as possible. 

When he saw me, his mouth popped open a bit as he handed me a cold can of Coke. Did I look fucking frumpy or something? “You look so cute.”

“Uh huh,” I rolled my eyes, trying to push up the shirt that was slipping off one of my shoulders. I wrinkled my nose as I looked up at him, “You wear shirts too small for you and I’m still drowning in your clothes.”

“It’s cute,” he reaffirmed, settling down on the couch again and waiting for me to do the same. I repeated what he said in a mocking tone before sitting down as well.

“Skip back a little, you missed some of it,” I told him, feeling my face heat up as I thought of why he missed some of the episode. Thankfully, since his face flushed a little as well, he didn’t make a comment.

Suddenly, my phone alarm went off. We both jumped up slightly and I grabbed it off the coffee table, checking what the fuck was happening. I had forgotten that I’d made an alarm on the way here so that we’d know when it was the new year.

“Oh wow, it’s 11:59,” I said, looking at Chris wide-eyed. “Well, let’s enjoy our last minute of 2015.”

“Do you think we could be each other’s New Year’s kiss?” he asked hesitantly, a shy smile on his face. “Not to make it weird. I just like having a New Year’s kiss. I think a lot of people do.”

I mentally shrugged and then did the same physically, flippantly remarking, “Yeah, who cares?”

His smile dropped a little but I barely took note because he moved closer to me the second I said “Yeah.” He kept his eyes on my phone, trying to see when it would change to midnight. I pressed the home button repeatedly until finally we saw the numbers 12:00 on the lit up screen. 

Chris gently pulled me into a kiss, his lips slow and soft against mine. When we moved apart, he asked, “Do you wanna stay for a little longer? I don’t know what time you have to get home.”

“Well, Char told me my curfew is 2 AM, so we got two hours. What’s the first thing you want to do in 2016?”

He grinned cheekily, “First, we should finish this episode.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure everyone who's been reading this is thinking "FINALLY" because, hell, I am too. 
> 
> Simran's NYE Outfit: http://www.polyvore.com/nye_outfit/set?id=186528791&p=3


	21. Chapter Twenty One

While finishing the episode we’d left off on, Chris had his arm around the back of his couch with my head resting on his shoulder. It was so peaceful and nice, it was perfect. I closed my eyes for a few moments, allowing myself to bask in the calmness.

I think I had nodded off for a bit when he murmured into my hair, “Sim, honey, do you want to sleep here or do you want me to give you a ride home?”

Sleep here? Is that an option? Hell yeah.

“Hmm? Is it 2 AM already?” I asked, refusing to open my eyes.

“No,” he chuckled as I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. “You’re just fallin’ asleep on me.”

“Oh, well, I’m up now,” I told him with a sigh. “What time is it?”

Chris laughed, “It’s 12:22 AM.”

“I slept for like ten minutes,” I wrinkled my nose as I took my head off his shoulder. He gave me a bright smile as I ran my fingers through my hair. “What?”

He thought about what to say for a moment before saying, “I have ice cream, if you want some.” 

It didn’t seem like that was what he’d wanted to say but I was already getting up at the sound of ice cream so I ignored it. “Ooh. What kind?” 

He got up as I did, walking into the kitchen with a wave telling me to follow him. 

“I’ve got rocky road, mint chocolate chip, and my favorite, obviously,” he said, opening the freezer and looking at me expectantly.

“Cookies and cream,” I said, the words coming to mind instantly. I awkwardly stood at the kitchen island, looking at the options as Chris fished out two spoons from one of his drawers. “You can have your favorite, of course, I’m not cruel.”

“Which one do you want?” he asked with a smirk, handing me a spoon before opening the tub of his ice cream. I shrugged and pointed at the mint chocolate chip. Taking it out for me, he set it on the island and looked at me for a long moment. 

Was there something on my face? Did I look weird in his shirt? What the fuck?

Without introduction, he lifted me up onto the counter top. I squeaked at the cold against the back of my thighs, and then raised an eyebrow at him. He just shrugged in reply, his hands still resting on my waist, “I thought it’d be nice to get you eye-level.”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” I deadpanned before sending him a wry smile. He cleared his throat and removed his hands from my sides. Unfortunately. 

“You’re not wearing a bra?” he asked casually, scooping up some ice cream and shoveling it into his mouth. He didn’t even take out bowls for us, so I dug into my carton as well. He should be the celebrity endorser of an ice cream brand, he’d be perfect for it—Wait a minute. I felt my face heat up as I realized what he’d said.

“You’re not wearing a bra!” I retorted, ever so witty. Not.

Chris chuckled and held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, probably a weird thing to mention. I’m sorry.”

“The dress came with padding, so I didn’t need one,” I mumbled into my ice cream, deciding to humor him. 

“Cool,” he shot me a huge grin but said nothing else. 

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be a pervert, Christopher.” 

“I am not being a pervert.”

“You are.”

“Okay, maybe a little. Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” I shrugged, a smile tugging at my lips. “But you do need a bra. You’re an A-cup, at least.”

He snorted. “Try B-cup, thank you very much.”

I hummed, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “I don’t need a man because Ben & Jerry both fill that requirement. The perfect threesome.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, girl,” Chris winked at me and I almost choked on my ice cream, laughing so hard. What a fucking troll.

I shifted in my seat as we ate quietly, wincing at the small discomfort between my legs. I was only slightly sore, nothing to be worried about. Honestly, my thighs were in pain from straddling him more than anything. However, Chris saw and gave me a strange look. The worry was evident as he spoke, “Was I too rough with you or something? I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

I paused, noticing the change of direction in our conversation. I shrugged, “Uh, no, not at all. It was perfectly rough enough.”

The side of his mouth quirked up, as did one eyebrow. “Oh, perfectly?”

“Shut up,” I deflected because I wanted to climb him like a tree and it’d only been what, half an hour since we did the do? Which, you know, I was still processing.

He leaned his hip against the counter, brushing my knee with the close proximity. He mulled over something in his head before looking back at me, “Too soon to do it again?”

I could feel my face flush and tried to act coy, “Well, let a girl breathe for a minute.”

Wait. Why the fuck are you saying that? Do it with him right now. Right now, this instant, you idiot. If he is asking, he wants to! You obviously want to! Jesus fucking Christ. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice genuine. I immediately backtracked.

“I’m just joking. We can after I finish this ice cream,” I sent him a reassuring smile but he looked like he got punched in the gut. My smile fell as I took note of that.

“We should probably set up some more boundaries,” Chris sighed, shoving his spoon of ice cream into his mouth. It was endearing, rather than gross, that his mouth was still full of cookies and cream when he spoke again, “I don’t want you to think this is expected of you.”

Did I upset him? Fucking fuck.

“Hey,” I grabbed for his hand, making sure he looked at me. I almost wasn’t ready for how beautiful his eyes looked as they focused on me. “I know that. I was serious.”

“If you’re ever uncomfortable, we don’t have to do anything, Simran,” he told me, his mouth twisting into a frown. “If I ever go too far or if you’re not up for it anymore, we can go right back to friends minus the benefits.”

“We had sex one time and you’re already regretting it?” I tried to joke but the catch in my throat probably made sure he knew I was insecure.

“Whoa, no, of course not,” Chris shook his head quickly, almost immediately. “Sim. I-I just want you to know you have a way out, no matter what.”

“You have a way out, too,” I reminded him, swallowing the bile rising my throat. 

“I won’t need one,” he promised with an unreadable expression. I stared at him for a moment, trying to understand, when he broke out into a wry smile, “Anyway, hurry up and finish.”

I was already scarfing down more of the slowly melting ice cream. I spoke again as I shivered, “How are you never cold?”

“Are you cold right now?” his eyebrows knitted together as he licked his spoon. “Hm. I turned on the heater for you.”

“I think it’s just because you set my ass down on this cold as fuck kitchen counter,” I teased, gesturing towards myself. 

Chris glanced down at my bare thighs and giggled like an oversized three year old. “You’ve got goosebumps.” 

“That’s what happens when you’re cold and eating ice cream.”

“That’s what happens when you’re not from the best place in the world. In case you’re wondering where I’m talking about, it’s Boston.” I scoffed jokingly as I ate more of the mint chocolate chip. He looked me over, “I’m joking. It’s cute to see you shivering and all but, do you need a blanket?” 

“No, I’ll live.” I’m a lying piece of shit, I want to cuddle under a blanket with you. Also, I want to do dirty things. But that could come later. 

After a minute of silence, Chris then threw his finished (how the fuck did he eat it so quickly? It was small but Jesus Christ) carton into his trashcan and rinsed off his spoon. Turning back to face me, he leaned against his sink and crossed his arms. “Can I say something cheesy as fuck?”

“Of course,” I smirked before popping the spoon of ice cream into my mouth. 

He looked at me through his dark eyelashes, “I know a way to warm you up.” 

My jaw dropped and I think some of the mint chocolate chip dripped on the side of my lip. That was not cheesy… That was… Okay, it was cheesy. It really was cheesy as fuck. But kind of hot? Seriously guys, if you’d heard his voice when he said this shit… Your panties would be coming off immediately. Like, without a doubt. Mine were probably coming off in a second. I didn’t mind.

I felt more goosebumps arise on my body as he moved closer to me, his hand coming up to hold my face. With his other hand, he took the ice cream out of my hands and set it on the counter. His thumb swiped against the side of my lip and he gently forced it into my mouth. 

Looking at me with intensity, he whispered his demand, “Suck.”

Without a second thought, I did as he asked. I swirled my tongue around his thumb, watching his face even though he focused on my mouth. I moved back and forth over his skin for moments before releasing. 

He exhaled softly before smirking, “I never said to stop.”

“Shut the fuck up, Christopher,” I rolled my eyes, finally moving my hands up from the counter to weave them into his hair. “You talk so fucking much sometimes.”

“Hey! So do you—“

I pulled his lips closer to me, feeling his tongue slip out to lick his lips and inadvertently licking mine. The position we were in reminded me of our first kiss on the set of Gucci Guilty. At that thought, I let out a small whine in the back of my throat as our lips pressed together.

Chris rested his hands on my knees, spreading them apart to make room for his body in between them. I raked my hands through his hair, relishing in the thought of what we were going to do next. He pulled me closer to the edge of the counter and I was near enough to wrap my legs around his narrow waist. 

I pulled back to breathe as he ran his lips over the column of my throat. Solely for the sake of teasing him, I whispered, “I didn’t finish my ice cream.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I felt his growl against my neck before sucking lightly on the skin. He pulled away to remove his shirt and then grabbed the bottom of mine—well, his— to take it off as well. 

He swore under his breath as he looked at my naked chest and I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks. There was no need to be staring at me, he could’ve just gone on with the foreplay. I crossed my arms over my chest as I pouted. “Can you not?”

His reply came a little late. “What?”

“Just… Proceed with the sex!” I told him pointedly. 

Chris rolled his eyes and laughed like he couldn’t believe I’d just said that. To be fair, I couldn’t believe I’d said something so stupid either. In that moment, it felt more like our normal conversations rather than us about to have sex. 

Well, until he had to go and flip the mood back.

“You’re fucking magnificent,” he murmured, pushing away my arms as he could pay attention to my breasts. I arched my back unknowingly, needing his hands on me right now. “So perfect. So goddamn perfect for me.”

With his hands on my breasts and him mouthing on my collarbone, I slipped a hand down to stroke the muscles of his abdomen. It was a thing of beauty, his body. I don’t know how he did it, he’d probably sold his soul to get this fucking physique.

His thumbs ran over my nipples as his mouth pressed open kisses along the tops of my breasts. I tried moving my hips against him but he just smirked up at me from his position.

“No, baby, you’re not allowed to do that,” he told me before sucking a nipple into the warm wet of his mouth. I squeaked in protest as he popped it back out. He sighed in the valley of my breasts, “Absolutely perfect.”

“We’re gonna do this here?” I mumbled as he ran his tongue back over my nipple. “That’s unsanitary in your kitchen.”

“I’ll pay extra to get it cleaned,” he told me, patting my thigh as an indication that I needed to help him remove my—Chris’— underwear that I’d used as shorts. After taking off the rest of my clothing, he knelt down and spread my thighs wider. 

Licking a stripe across my inner thigh, he blew air on it and looked up at me again. The darkness of his eyes made a shiver run down my spine and I felt desire spark inside my body. My eyes closed on their own accord as he rubbed his beard against my thighs, avoiding the one area I needed him to touch.

“Watch me,” he whispered and my eyes snapped open to look down at him. He smiled approvingly, “Good girl.”

His tongue darted out, licking along my folds as his hands gripped my thighs to keep them open. Running his nose against the top of my bare mound, he suckled my clit into his mouth. I gripped the counter’s edge tightly with both hands, biting my lip to avoid making sounds.

His hand guided one of mine to the top of his head, silently telling me to grab his hair. Or at least, that’s what I assumed? So, I scratched the top of his head, carding my fingers through his hair. I relished in the sight of his head between my thighs, feeling for a brief moment like he belonged right here.

Then I pushed that thought aside completely and breathed out a moan. At my sound, Chris gripped my thighs harder, pressing his face into me more forcefully. I could feel the scruff of his beard and started rolling my hips, my hand pushing him against me. 

Before long, he moved away to breath. I wish he didn’t have to breathe. I wanted him to stay here all day every day. 

“I’m going to die if I’m not inside you right now.”

“A bit of an exaggeration,” I murmured, almost cringing at how breathless and desperate I sounded. 

He wiped his mouth and stood up, pulling his boxer briefs down to his ankles. I noticed that he was painfully hard and I would’ve felt bad for him if I didn’t know he was about to get that taken care of right now.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of his penis, which sounds weird, obviously. It’s not that penises were all that ugly. It’s just, they weren’t exactly pretty. Well, not to me. But Chris’ was another story. It was beautiful. Maybe I just thought that because it’d been the only penis I’d encountered that satisfied me though.

Either way, Chris had a pretty penis. Just like he had a pretty everything. It was pretty unfair.

“No, it’s really not,” he pressed his forehead against mine, wrapping my legs around his waist once again. My hands gripped his bare shoulders, feeling his muscles bulge underneath my fingers. 

He looked me in the eye as he started to push in. Letting out an obscene moan, he closed his eyes and whispered against my lips, “You have no idea how amazing you feel.”

I inhaled and exhaled as normally as I could but feeling him inside me was something I was probably never going to get used to. I knew it was only the second instant we’d done this (in what, half an hour?) but I knew Chris would feel extraordinary every time. 

He pushed into me deeply, driving me crazy. My nails dug into his shoulders and his lips captured mine in a searing kiss, his thrusts speeding up as he did so. After a while, he started to talk again — something I noticed he’d probably always do. Not that I really minded.

To be honest, it got me hot and bothered. 

"Fuck, touch yourself," he moaned in my ear, sliding into me again. It was a clear command. Even if it hadn’t been a command, he’d said it so earnestly… I paused for a moment, deciding if it would be embarrassing or not, before realizing it would feel good, so who cares? 

I felt Chris' hips buck as he felt my hand slide between us and he groaned into my neck, "Good girl." I let out a small, shaky moan at the praise and he pulled his head up to make eye contact. The fucking eye contact would kill me. "You like that? You like when I call you a good girl?"

He punctuated the two words with his thrusts and my eyes rolled back into my head momentarily. I didn't say anything as he gave me an appreciative look, "You're not very talkative during sex, but I am. Sorry but it's not gonna change."

I cracked a smile before focusing again on working my clit. He snapped his hips into mine, eagerly pushing himself back in. "We'll talk about kinks another time, then.”

Please, God, let us talk about kinks soon. I’d love to hear all about his.

——————

At 2 AM, Chris offered me that ride home. I changed back into my formal dress, telling him I couldn’t be struck with the responsibility of having to give him his clothes back. Besides, Char would give me a fucking interrogation if I showed up in his clothes.

The drive was quiet but comfortable. I thought I’d be awkward after we hooked up, but it felt like we were fine. I was a little hesitant but nothing like the stumbling idiot I assumed I’d be. So, thank God for that. 

When he parked at the apartment complex, we were talking about the kind of dog he should get. 

“A golden retriever because you look like one.”

“What? How the fuck do I—Never mind, they’re too big.”

“Labrador?”

“Still too big.”

“Oh, oh, you should have a pug!”

“No, they snore way too much.”

“Yorkshire terrier!”

“Nah, too hyper and small.”

“Get a French bulldog!”

“I like bulldogs, all kinds,” he said, a small smile on his face. Finally, something he wasn’t shooting down instantly. “East was a big slobbery mess.”

I reaffirmed my previous statement with excitement in my voice, “Oh my god, Christopher, get a French bulldog. They are so cute. I’d come over to your house everyday and play with the puppy forever.”

“Yeah?” he asked, looking over at me with a shy smile.

“Duh, dogs are the best,” I scoffed.

“Well, how about I walk you to your apartment? It’s cold out and you’re still wearing my jacket anyway,” Chris suggested, glancing out the dashboard. 

“Sounds like a plan, I wouldn’t want to steal your jacket,” I teased, opening the passenger side door. Come to think of it, I’d still never given him his jacket back from that night back in September. I probably should get him that back.

We got to my front door in record time, still talking about the possibility of him getting a french bulldog.

“Seriously, don’t tempt me, I’m really considering it,” he said, a grin on his face. 

“I will be sending you pictures of French bulldogs everyday until you get one,” I promised, my eyes wide and eager. “You wanna come in for a second? I actually have another jacket you’d left here.”

“Sure,” he followed me in as I opened the door. I had been expecting silence when I walked in, but I heard the TV on. I threw my purse on the counter and started towards the living room, checking back to see if he was still behind me.

We walked into the room and observed the situation. Archie and Maya were laying in a poorly-made pillow fort and watching a movie. Chris groaned at the brightly lit screen, startling the girls out of their relaxed states.

Archie had the decency to look guilty as she crawled out of the fort. “Sim, when’d you get here!?”

“Hi Chris!” Maya exclaimed, bounding out to hug his hip. He chuckled, kneeling down to hug her back correctly. “We’re watching a movie with you in it!”

“The worst movie with me possible,” he grimaced, poking her in a ticklish side. She giggled and his grimace lightened a bit. “You are way too young to be watching this movie, young lady. You too, Archie.”

“Aw, but Chris!” Archie protested, pausing the TV. “I’m 14 years old now. I’m gonna be in high school!”

“Ooh, that you are!” I gasped, realizing how old she was getting. She was still just a baby. “You’re gonna go to all the dances and be in plays and have so much fun!”

“Yeah, with boys,” Chris replied as he stood up, shivering in disgust. “Avoid boys at all costs.”

“What if she likes girls?” I raised the question, smirking at him. 

“I don’t think I like girls,” Archie rolled her eyes. “Boys, however, are very cute.”

“You ever thought about homeschooling?” he asked me, a small grin on his face.

“No way, if I homeschool the girls, I’d never get a break,” I laughed as Maya pouted.

“Can we watch the movie now?” she whined. Archie looked at me expectantly and I glanced back at the TV. I mean, if Chris was in it, how bad could it be? I inspected the frozen scene and realized what movie it was.

“You guys are watching Not Another Teen Movie?” I couldn’t stop myself from laughing and I could see Chris crossing his arms like an overgrown, petulant child. 

“It was my first movie, okay? I took what I could get!” 

“Have you guys gotten to the banana split scene yet?”

“Sim, that is not appropriate for the girls!” 

“I don’t care — it’s fucking hilarious!”

“You’re an—“ he covered Maya’s ear as he exclaim whispered, “asshole, you know that?”

I pushed his hands off her head as I kept laughing, “Maya has heard many colorful words, it’s not anything new.”

“So we can watch it?!” Archie exclaimed happily. 

“Only till the banana split part and then you guys are marching your asses to bed,” I told them. 

“Can Chris stay?!” Maya asked eagerly, looking up at him. “Please, Chris, can you stay?!”

“This kid wants to torture me,” he mumbled to me before looking back at the puppy dog eyes she was laying on him. “I’ll stay if we fix this sorry excuse for a pillow fort.”

“Yes!” the girls said at the same time. 

“Where’s Char?” I asked suddenly, looking around for my blonde best friend.

“She’s sleeping in our room, knocked out around 1 AM,” Archie told me, snorting. So, that’s how they got away with being up so late. Char was probably the heaviest sleeper I’d ever met. I wish I could sleep as deeply as she did. Fucking lucky.

“I’m gonna go change and I’ll be back,” I sighed, before looking back at Chris and lowering my voice, “You don’t need to stay if you don’t want to. It’s really late.”

“Eh, I have a day off tomorrow and I’m not too tired,” he shrugged. “Besides, I’ve missed these two.”

He looked so sincere, I wanted to die.

I changed into leggings and a pullover sweater I’d grabbed from my room before washing off my makeup. Tying my hair up in a bun, I put on my glasses and padded out of the bathroom to see how the kids (Chris included) were doing.

“No, no, no. If you want a good fort, just listen to what I say,” I heard Chris’ commanding voice and the tone reminded me of how he was giving me orders not too long ago. 

Maya was sitting on the couch as Chris and Archie stood with their arms crossed, half the fort remade in the time I’d been in the bathroom. Seeing me come through the hallway, he looked at me immediately.

“Hey Sim, you wanna help?”

“Nah, you got it covered,” I giggled, setting into the seat next to Maya. “I’ll just oversee.”

Scoffing, Archie took a pillow from the floor and strategically started placing them in the way they’d planned. Chris adjusted the space to account for all four of us and Maya grabbed some extra blankets. I did nothing because I was queen of the apartment.

They’d done a beautiful job of remaking the fort and allowing room for all of us. Once they were done, Maya curled into Chris’ side and Archie laid next to me. It was sad to say my sisters were cock-blocking us.

Covering Maya’s eyes during the banana split scene, Chris glared at me with a pout across the fort. I was essentially cackling, knowing it was funny as hell to me that we were in this position. 

“Chris, are you staying over? Like, for the night?!” I barely heard Maya whispering over the sound of the TV.

“Sure, honey, do you want me to?” he asked, petting her hair as she rested her head on his chest. She nodded as best as she could against him. “Okay, then I will.”

“Can we watch more movies tomorrow?”

“Well, I don’t have anything on my schedule and I’ll stay if Sim’s okay with it.”

“If you’re not busy, then it’s perfect! She won’t say no. You and Sim are friends!” Maya was obviously excited and happy at the prospect of Chris spending more time here. I didn’t want him to feel like he couldn’t say no to her. 

“Yes we are, kiddo,” he chuckled. “Okay, so we can watch movies tomorrow. All the ones you want.”

“Pinky promise?” she held out her tiny hand and he immediately brought his own forward. She seemed satisfied but asked, “Can we watch Tangled and The Little Mermaid in the morning?”

“Of course! I know all the words to the songs in The Little Mermaid,” he murmured, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. I felt my chest tighten at the sight of his actions. He would be an amazing father. 

“Me too,” Maya gasped happily. 

Adorable fucking baby. I didn’t even know which one I was talking about. 

(Chris. I was talking it about Chris.)


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

I hadn’t seen Chris in almost a week. It was beginning to feel like a routine where we’d see each other for a few days and then suddenly, all face-to-face contact was lost. Such was the life of actors, I guess.

To be fair, guys, he did spend four full fucking days at my house. He slept on my pull-out couch and made breakfast in the morning (well, the first day) and he used a spare tooth brush. He’d even gotten a PA to bring him clothes and his own toiletries. 

And you know what? This motherfucker sang in the shower. Disney songs. He sang Disney songs. In MY shower. As if he wasn’t already cute enough.

We didn’t do the dirty, my sisters were around us the whole time. Plus, a girl needed to recover. I didn’t tell Chris how long it’d been for me along with the fact that he was well above average size, so I was pretty sore for a few days. He’d shot me a worried look once or twice and he’d even gone as far as mentioning the fact that we should sit down and have a talk about “kinks and boundaries and all that jazz” apparently. 

When he left, I felt like my mind also needed time to recover. During the days we hung out, we’d obviously acted like friends (with the exception of Chris mentioning we should further discuss our so-called arrangement). So, that hadn’t changed. Sure, I did over-read some of the things he did, but I got over it quickly. I think.

Honestly though, nothing funky happened or anything, Maya had just convinced him to stay every day until he finally actually had to leave on the 4th of January. Okay, well, it was kind of weird but it was also very fun. I’ll explain later, whatever.

Anyway, an impromptu lunch with Scott, Marc and Char was the current thing worrying me. It was impromptu because Marc had called me for lunch at Lombardo’s on a particularly slow day, a quite normal occurrence, and yet, Scott and Char were there as well. 

They all looked like hyenas, ready to pounce. I didn’t want to mention the present situation with Chris because I didn’t know how private he wanted things? I didn’t know if Scott knew or not and I hadn’t mentioned anything to Marc and Char.

There was only a few people in the restaurant and Marc’s staff was taking care of everyone perfectly. We got our food and sat in a booth, Scott and Marc on one side with Char and me on the other. Unfortunately, they pushed questions before I even started eating.

“So you’re not going to tell us what’s going on with you two?” Char quirked her eyebrow at me, challengingly.

“You’re just gonna refuse to talk about it?” Marc asked before sipping on his beer. 

“You know, I could just ask Chris,” Scott waved his cell phone around in a teasing manner.

“He wouldn’t tell you,” I rolled my eyes, breaking apart my garlic bread. Scott wiggled his eyebrows and smirked.

“Sim, Char told us you all were asleep in a damn pillow fort,” Marc said.

“Archie told me that he stayed over for like three days,” Char added. 

“Four!” Scott corrected. “He told me four fucking days.”

“So?!” I shrugged at him. “We’re friends.”

“With benefits,” he scoffed immediately.

All three of our heads snapped to Scott in shock. How the fuck did he know?

He only shrugged, sending me a sly grin. “I’m the nosy brother, he knew he’d have to tell me because I’d never stop bugging him about it.”

“When did he tell you?” my voice went up a pitch as I tried to remain calm. Fuck, they’re going to grill the hell out of me. “Oh God. What did he tell you?”

“When did it happen?!” Marc threw a question right back at me, a surprised but amused look on his face.

“When was this established?” Char asked, obviously annoyed with the fact that I hadn’t told her. Whoops.

Scott rolled his eyes and took a swig of his beer before replying, “Sim, why don’t you start it by telling us about the kiss at Halloween?”

“He kissed her?!” Marc smacked Scott’s arm. “How did you not fucking tell me!?”

“I knew about that already,” Char sighed in annoyance, taking a bite of her fettuccine. “Give me something new!”

“You already knew?!” Marc squeaked in surprise. “Ya’ll are a bunch of assholes.”

“Can we not talk about this?” I groaned. “It’s awkward as fuck.”

“Okay, but friends with benefits, Sim?” Scott snorted, stealing a sip of Marc’s beer. “Really? You guys are so not going to be able to do that.”

“Yes we are,” I replied insistently. “We’re good friends and we’ve only fucked once — well twice — but we hung out perfectly the same afterwards. For days, even!”

“Twice?!” Scott exclaimed as Char asked, “When?!”

“You guys need to start telling me shit,” Marc just grumbled. 

“It just happened! We’ve decided we’re physically attracted to one another and we love being friends,” I shrugged, trying to be as calm as possible. “So we’re fucking, that’s all. Friends can fuck! Fuck buddies, it’s all good.”

“Funny, that’s what Chris said,” Scott sighed, looking at the other two with a defeated look. “It’s also a line from one of his shitty movies.”

“It’s not that shitty of a movie,” Marc defended. “I liked it! It was cute.”

“It’s shitty,” Scott decided. 

“What the fuck are you guys even talking about?” Char rolled her eyes at their shenanigans. I didn’t even know what movie they were talking about. 

“Whatever, who cares? It’s true!” I said, “See! Even Chris agrees. ” 

“You and Chris have never been friends to begin with,” Char told me, crossing her arms over her chest. 

I scoffed, putting my fork down and mirroring her position. “We have been and we are!” 

Marc only groaned in frustration. “You two dance around each other. There’s line between friends and constantly pining after one another and you guys crossed that line in like fucking September.”

“We totally are friends. There’s no pining here!” 

And there wasn’t. Sure, I had had a little crush on him but maybe now that we would be having sex, it would go away. You know? Maybe the itch I felt just needed to be scratched and that’s what he was doing.

He’d certainly never told me he like-liked me (God, was I back in elementary school?) and there’d been no indication that it was anything more than physical attraction. Besides, I’d seen the girls he dated. They were nothing like me. So, maybe I was just an itch to scratch for him too. 

“I don’t think that’s very true,” Char replied. 

“I doubt you guys can keep it up for long,” Scott teased.

Their words were getting to me. I knew I shouldn’t have taken them to heart but still… I needed to get out of my head. We were friends and I hadn’t overthought it when I was with him, so I shouldn’t over think it now. 

“Can we stop talking about this? I’m trying to eat my goddamn chicken parm,” I rubbed my hand over my face tiredly. They all shrugged. 

“Fine, wanna talk about how we’re all watching the Golden Globes tonight and the said fuck buddy is going to be presenting?” Marc wiggled his eyebrows at me.

“He’s at the Golden Globes? Wasn’t he just in New Orleans?” Char said, a certain mothering tone in her voice. I smirked because she was already accepting him as part of the group. “He’s probably so tired and jet lagged.”

“He was, yeah, he told me he was exhausted,” Scott said, the sympathy in his voice evident. I felt a little jealous because Chris and I had only spoken a handful of times while he was gone. But that was unfair to think that, because Scott was his brother and of course he’d talk to him.

“At least he’ll look hot as fuck tonight,” Marc replied, winking right at me. 

“Wrong Evans to be talking about, bae,” Scott pouted. Marc leaned over to kiss the pout away. 

I fake gagged as Char laughed. “I’m eating here!”

They didn’t say much about Chris for the rest of the lunch, but I still felt the thoughts in the back of my head. How fucking fantastic. This was all going swimmingly. Not.

——————

Later that night, we all crowded around the TV in my apartment to watch the Golden Globes. 

“Okay, but that suit though,” Marc was fanning himself as Scott glared at him. “Baby, you know I kid. You’re the hotter brother.”

I snorted and Scott stuck his tongue out at me.

“But Marc’s right, that suit is nice as hell,” Char acknowledged before turning to me and whispering, “You hit that?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I smacked her away but sent her a fond smile. 

“I wanna hear Chris! Make it louder!” Maya demanded, sitting only two feet away from the TV despite my nagging that she was going to need glasses.

“He’s not even presenting yet, sweetie,” Scott said, but Maya just pouted. 

“All we’ve seen is a stupid clip of him laughing at his table,” Archie sighed, slouching herself into the back of the couch next to me. 

It was not a stupid clip, he looked so happy and cute. 

“If Leo doesn’t win an Oscar, I’m out,” Marc decided as I rolled my eyes. Dumbass.

“This isn’t the Oscars, babe,” Scott chortled, running his hand through Marc’s hair even as Marc was slapping it away. 

“Stop talking!” I hissed, trying to figure out when Chris would start presenting. The asshole didn’t even walk the red carpet and show off his amazing suit.

“Jesus Sim, you’re excited,” Char grinned, nudging me in the shoulder.

“Yeah, usually you never shut up during these,” Marc added.

“You always talk during movies too!” Archie complained. “Remember when we watched Star Wars with Chris and he didn’t even care about your constant talking? How didn’t he? Like, it’s a serious pet peeve of mine.”

“You guys watched Star Wars together and he didn’t tell you to shut up once? Really?” Scott raised an eyebrow. “Because he’ll punch me in the arm for breathing too loud during those damn movies. God help me if it’s a scene with Han Solo.”

Fuck, not again.

“Some people think the talking is endearing,” I mumbled, shrugging as casually as possible.

Scott just smirked. “He must find you so endearing, then.”

“Chris is here!” Maya squealed. The one time this kid saves my ass and it’s not even on purpose… We all focused on the TV instead of on the current conversation, thanks to her though.

Chris looked amazing, as always, and the screen probably didn’t even do him justice. His smirk was permanently in place and his voice was deep and velvety. I missed him. Jesus, I missed him. At least we were in the same state now, though.

——————

The next day was a Monday and the girls were back to school. I got back from dropping them off and lazed around, hoping I would just get a quiet day to myself. And obviously, when you hope for something, you never fucking get it.

A knock on the door interrupted my overthinking — Scott, Char and Marc got me feeling like this was a problem, okay? I thought I was fine but maybe I wasn’t. I opened the door without checking the peephole, a horrible habit I’d developed. 

Chris was standing on the other side, in a white t-shirt, blue cardigan and dark jeans. His face broke out into a grin when he met my eyes and I couldn’t even open my mouth to speak.

I was immediately engulfed in a hug, smelling his cologne and feeling the warmth of his arms around me. I don’t know how long we stood in the doorway of my apartment, not moving from the embrace. 

Finally, my cell phone rang and we begrudgingly broke apart. Chris let out a laugh, “I still want to know why your ringtone is Baby Got Back.”

“It just is, it’s my jam,” I told him as I looked at the caller ID. It was my dad, great. I looked back at Chris, nodding for him to come inside as I answered. “Hey dad.”

“Hello Simran,” my father sounded tired as I motioned for Chris to sit on the couch. “Have I told you your cousin Sheila is getting married this weekend?” 

“Uhm, no, it must’ve slipped your mind,” I grimaced, immediately knowing where this conversation was going. Another Indian wedding to go to. Chris mouthed ‘What’s wrong?’ but I only shook my head.

“Well, I’ve already RSVP’d for you and the girls,” my dad told me with a sigh. “I have already arranged for the gift. Make sure to wear something nice and go to every event. Talk to some of the men there, maybe. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“I have to leave town in a week,” I protested as Chris sent me a concerned look. The press tour for my first movie was important and it was already giving me enough anxiety. “This is the only time I’m getting to relax for the next two months and I wanted to stay at home.”

“How unfortunate for you, putar,” I could already hear my father getting his speech ready about how he’d moved here with twenty dollars in his pocket and worked hard for his daughters. You know, the immigrant parent cliche. “I can see now that you don’t care for our culture and heritage.”

“No dad, it’s not like that. I’m just tired.”

“You think you’re tired? You think you work hard? I came to America with only twenty dollars in my pocket—“

“Okay, okay, I’ll go,” I sighed, already defeated. 

“Good. Your mother sends her regards.”

“How is ma? Is she okay? Can she talk on the phone?” I latched on to the idea of speaking with my mother, I hadn’t heard her voice in months and I was still worried ever since my father told us she was sick. I didn’t even know what kind of sick he was talking about and I was a little afraid to find out.

“She can’t talk right now. I will call you on Friday. Goodbye,” and then my father hung up.

I groaned loudly, burying my face into my hands as Chris ran his hand up and down my back in a soothing motion.

“You okay? What was that about?” he finally asked after a minute of silence.

“My dad wants me to go to this Indian wedding,” I ran a hand through the length of my hair, feeling myself fidget uncomfortably. 

“Is that all?” he pushed, his voice calm and steady.

I hesitated, biting my lip as I thought of what else was wrong. My mom, the press tour, the current doubt in my mind… I think he sensed that I didn’t really want to address any of it.

“Honey, it’s going to be okay,” Chris insisted, pulling me into his lap. I rested my head on his chest as he cradled me in his arms. “Sorry for showing up so unexpectedly.”

“I feel like you came at just the right time,” I mumbled into his neck. He pressed a kiss to my temple in, what I assumed was, agreement. I bit my lip as I thought of what to say in the silence. “Do you think we could take a nap? I don’t know how free you are for the day, but I’m tired as fuck and it’s only 10 AM.”

“That’s the best fucking idea ever,” Chris shot me a genuine smile. “I love naps. I got the whole day free, even some of tomorrow if you want to hang out again.”

“I would love to,” I admitted. “Can we go nap now?”

“Of course,” he said, lifting me up bridal style effortlessly. He glanced at my clothes, dark skinny jeans and a sky blue V-neck. “Do you need to change?”

“Honestly, I’ll sleep in these clothes,” I sighed. “I’m too far gone.”

Chris just laughed as he opened my room door and set me down on the bed. I tossed the comforter aside and settled in, patting the other side of my bed. He took off his shoes and socks, placing them by the door before getting into the bed. 

He looked at me for a moment, debating on whatever he was about to say as he shifted in the blanket, “You think bros can cuddle?”

“I think we can, yeah,” I nodded, feeling my face heat up. Cuddling? Friends who cuddled? That was a thing. It was fine.

“Good because I think we’re both naturally inclined to cuddle anyway,” Chris teased. 

I just needed to keep telling myself this was normal. I rolled my eyes but smiled at him, “How about we just sleep on either side of the bed and if we wake up cuddling, so be it?”

“Works for me. Now, sleep!” He faced me, closing his eyes as he tried to get comfortable.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” I mumbled, settling into my pillow and feeling Chris’ warmth so close to me. He snorted but said nothing as we drifted off to sleep. 

My internal clock woke me up two hours later, at around noon. It was lunch time, so I could hear my stomach growling like a damn bear. Disentangling myself from Chris as carefully as possible, I padded out to my kitchen to make us something to eat. 

The nap was just as much for Chris as it had been for me. I could tell he was exhausted, always traveling from place to place and being dragged here and there. I decided to make him some cinnamon rolls, placing them in the oven as I scrolled through my Twitter and Instagram. I looked through the Golden Globes tags, seeing all the pictures. One particular picture rubbed me the wrong way. It shouldn’t have, at all, but it did. 

Chris trudged out of my room as I sat at the counter, still waiting for the food to be done. 

“Well, well, well, sleeping beauty’s awake,” I deadpanned, still pouting at my phone screen.

“What’s that?” Chris mumbled, peering over my shoulder to see my phone.

“Some pictures I came across. You had fun, apparently,” I smirked, playing it off. 

“You jealous?" Chris snorted, his eyes darting between me and the picture. Kate Hudson fixing his bowtie with the caption ‘Even Captain America needs a little help sometimes.’ 

"I'm so not jealous," I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest in a way that was NOT defensive, nope, not at all.  

"It's okay to be jealous, Sim," he mocked me, a fake pout on his face.  

"You know what? I am jealous!" His shocked face only satisfied me for a moment, before I realized I needed to add more to the sentence. "I wish I was famous enough to get away with fixing Oscar Isaac's bow tie or something." 

The smirk on his face had been wiped off and now he looked like he was legitimately pouting. He grumbled, “You could get away with fixing anyone’s bow tie.” 

“Leonardo Dicaprio’s?” I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side. 

"You saying I'm as big a star as Leo?" The smile was back full force as he teased me. He sat next to me at the counter, nudging my knee with his. 

Sitting up right, I rolled my eyes, "Shut the fuck up, Christopher.”

“There’s gonna be even more things to be jealous about,” he carried on the playful conversation. “My agent called me this morning telling me people have linked me to Jennifer Lawrence.”

“Nice, you guys got together?” I tried to keep tightness out of my voice. He’d already gone and fucked someone else. This fuck buddy ordeal had been finished when we’d barely even started. Why did I feel like my heart was lodged in my throat?

“Nooo,” Chris shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “That’d be breaking the deal and besides, she’s so not my type.”

“She seems very… quirky,” I tried to say something in a positive manner, but it wasn’t going to come out very positive. “She’s interesting.”

“She’s annoying,” Chris supplied, sending me a grin. His words, not mine. “And, trust me, she’s really not my type.”

I just hummed. “Prefer brunettes over blondes?”

“Well, yeah but—“ he started, but the oven dinged at the same time. “What’d you make?”

“Cinnamon rolls,” I told him, grabbing the oven mitts nearby and taking the pan out. 

“You’re an angel from heaven above.”

“Don’t I know it,” I said over my shoulder, setting the cinnamon rolls down and grabbing two plates. Placing a roll on each plate, I quickly took out my phone and snapped a picture. “This one’s for Instagram.”

“Why are you so much better at social media than I am?” Chris joked as I brought him his plate and a fork. “Is Instagram still the one where people take pictures of their food?”

“It is when you’re me,” I giggled. “But Instagram is all pictures in general. I post a lot of shit on there. And on Twitter.”

“How come we haven't followed each other on Twitter?” 

“Because you’re boring,” I replied, stabbing into my food.

“I am not,” Chris exclaimed before taking a bite of his cinnamon roll and moaning. I felt turned on immediately from the sound and tried to calm myself. I needed a fucking cold shower or something. His mouth was full as he spoke again, “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

“You are too boring,” I stated with a smirk. “You only talk about football or thank people. The occasional inspiration post is nice, though.”

“I just never remember to take out my phone and capture the moments,” he shrugged. “But what about Instagram? Is it worth it?”

“I think it’s fun,” I admitted. “But it’s your choice.”

“I like my privacy,” Chris chewed on his food some more as he thought. “But Robert really gets a kick out of sharing memes on Twitter and Facebook.”

“You could do the same,” I told him. “I do that a lot on Instagram. There’s hashtags like Throwback Thursday, Woman Crush Wednesday, and Man Crush Monday.”

“Ooh, really?” his eyebrow quirked up. “I could have some fun with that. I’ll think it over. If I get one, you’ll be the first one I follow.”

He smirked before eating more of his cinnamon roll and I glanced at him through my peripheral. He looked fucking perfect, even if he had a little bedhead. Actually, he looked even better with the bedhead. At least the bags under his eyes weren’t as bad as before.

“Bro, it’s so not fair that you get cheekbones like that without contouring,” I sighed around my fork. 

“Well, my makeup artists do have to contour sometimes,” Chris shrugged. “Make up is part of the actor life.”

“But still, you got naturally nice cheekbones,” I insisted.

“Yeah? And the long eyelashes too, right?” he winked, his face twisting into a crooked smile.

“You asshole! I can’t believe you know how pretty you look,” I gasped jokingly as he laughed.

“Only because these things are told to me whenever I sit in the makeup chair.”

“Well, I just get told I have nice eyebrows.”

“You got a nice everything, sweetheart.”

I cleared my throat at the compliment before taking my empty plate to the sink. After rinsing it, I glanced back at Chris and saw his plate empty as well. “Want another cinnamon roll?”

“No ma’am, thank you,” he gave me a boyish grin and I felt my knees wobble a little. Just a bit.

“Want to do something else?” I took his plate and rinsed it as well.

“Yes,” he said simply with no indication of explaining.

“Okay. What do you want to do?” I bit my lip, coming to stand next to him at the counter.

“How about we talk?” he asked. 

I felt my blood run cold.

“Okay,” I swallowed. This is it. He wants to stop things already. I tried to act dumb, “About what?”

Chris stood up, gesturing me to follow him back towards my room. Sitting on the edge of my unmade bed, he patted the spot next to him. I did as suggested, facing him and sitting criss cross apple sauce. 

“I thought we could talk about kinks now.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t what I thought we were talking about. So, that was good. I think.

“God, if I hear the word kink ever again,” I shook my head with a playful smile. “I’m so tired of you saying that word.”

“Fine,” he laughed, “I figured we could discuss what turns us on during sexual intercourse.”

“Very technical, I like it,” I stuck my tongue out at him. 

He rolled his eyes but continued. “So, safe word. Do you think the standard green, yellow, red will do?”

“We’re gonna need a safe word?” my eyebrows raised up to my hairline. “Holy shit.”

“Well, I just thought… Just in case,” he flushed, scratching his nose with his thumb as he looked around the room. “I thought it’d be good to just establish it.”

“Fine with me,” I stated, trying to make sure I didn’t seem too embarrassed. I wasn’t some child, I needed to be mature about this. 

“Okay. Green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop,” Chris explained gently. “Never hesitate to use them.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m not into BDSM,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ve dabbled but I’m not into being a Dom every time we have sex.”

I bit my lip, “But you use some of the stuff you’ve learned?”

“Sometimes,” he nodded. “What about you?”

“N-No, I’ve never done any of that,” I stuttered, cursing myself for being so awkward. “I don’t mind whatever we’ve done so far though. I, uhm, I really liked it.”

Chris looked at me through his lashes and sent a crooked grin, “Good.”

Feeling like that was an invitation to initiate a little something, I crawled into his lap. I hesitated only for a moment, “What else?”

“Do you have anything you don’t want to do? Refuse to do? It’s off-limits?” He raised an eyebrow, helping me straddle him. I ran my hands over his cardigan as he spoke.

“Uh, can you list some things that could be?” I asked a little sheepishly. “I’m not very experienced, obviously.”

“Well, there’s spanking, choking, name calling?” he listed, pausing for me to say anything.

“What kind of name calling? Like, derogatory?” I frowned as he nodded. “Not that then, for sure. And I trust you but choking sounds a little too extreme for me.”

Chris had a slow smirk form on his face, “But spanking sounds good?”

I felt my face flush and I did my best not to stutter, “Well, it doesn’t sound too bad.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, looking at me through hooded lids before sobering up only slightly. “What about getting tied up, being blindfolded, and role-playing?”

“Depends on the role-playing,” I chewed on my bottom lip before sassing him, “And is the tying up and blindfolding for me or for you?”

“Either-or,” he spoke against my ear and I squeaked only slightly.

“I believe I’d like to try that,” I sighed as his lips pressed my temple. 

“Yeah? You would?” he said in a low voice, his warm breath on my ear. “How about praise kink? Multiple orgasms? Exhibitionism?”

“I’d be way too embarrassed for exhibitionism,” I muttered. “I think I could handle the other two, though.”

“I think you could too,” Chris was trying hard not to smile but when he pulled back to look at me, I could tell. At this point, I think the talking was over because he pressed his lips against mine.

He felt soft and warm, his lips melding against mine in languid motions. I felt his hands traveling up my back, holding me in place against him. I gripped his covered biceps, running my fingers over the tensing muscles. 

Sighing quietly, I whispered against his mouth, “Are your biceps fucking tree trunks?”

Chris laughed lightly, pulling back only barely. He gave a self-depreciating smile, “I think you have the wrong Chris. The Sexiest Man Alive is the one with the tree trunks.”

“He isn’t much of my type,” I shrugged, but he just hummed as I chewed on his bottom lip. His hands went up my back as his eyes looked up at me questioningly. I raised my arms to let him take off my V-neck and he threw it to a corner of my room.

I let out a small moan as Chris ran his nose up and down my throat. 

"I've got a thing for your nose," I admitted as he continued dragging his nose to my collar bone. I could feel the smile on his face as he pecked little kisses on my chest.  

"I know," he said simply, running his hands up and down my back. Obviously he knew. I got weak at the knees when he used it on my skin. Good thing I was in his lap. Otherwise, I would've collapsed on the ground. 

"And your hands," I bit my lip, looking up so I didn't have to see his reaction. One large hand slithered down to my thigh, gripping it, while the other stayed anchoring my back.  

“Oh honey, you got a hand kink? I can work with that," Chris chuckled low and dark and it shot arousal right through my body. He rubbed his thumb gently in my inner thigh and that was all I could focus on for a moment. “I guess we’re talking more about specific kinks now. What else?" 

"Your beard," I replied after a moment, looking down to see his face this time. Chris smirked and met my eyes.  

"Everyone does," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Good thing too, because I am not shaving until I need to."

I lifted one of the hands gripping his cardigan to caress his bearded jaw, keeping my eyes on where my fingers were. I blurted out, “But, I don't like beards on other guys,"

It was true. They were usually gross and unkempt. Chris' beard was clean and soft with just the right amount of roughness. Whenever he rubbed it against my skin, I felt like I was being worshipped in the weirdest way possible. 

He seemed surprised at my admission but took it in stride. He gave me a dazzling smile and asked, "Just me?" 

"Just you," I echoed absently. I removed the other hand gripping his cardigan to brush my fingers over his nose and mouth before I grabbed the back of his head by his hair. “I like the beard burn.”

“I’ll give you some between your thighs,” he stated, his voice going gravelly. 

I bit back a moan at the thought. “I, uh, I like when you talk. Like that.” 

“I like when you make noise.”

“It’s hard for me to,” I admitted, looking at his face to see his reaction. He seemed confused, so I went on. “Any time I’ve been with a guy, I’ve had to stay quiet.” 

“What? Why?” 

"I was always sneaking around either at their house or at my own. Or I was in a dorm where I had to be polite and not scream. It conditioned me to the point of where I barely make noise.” 

It was a weird tidbit about me but it was true. I hadn’t told Chris how long it’d been since I’d had sex before him. I mean, I didn’t really need to. It wasn’t super relevant. 

“We’ll work on it,” he promised and I felt a shiver run through my spine at how we’d be working on it. "Want me to tell you more of my kinks?"  

Yes, please.

He moved the hand that was on the small of my back down to my ass and I rolled my eyes as he squeezed suggestively. “The entire world knows you're an ass man.”

“What are your thoughts on anal?” he asked a bit apprehensively. I stiffened up slightly. It seemed interesting but I’d really have to work myself up to it. But he acted a little nervous, so maybe he really enjoyed it. I only shrugged. 

“I, I have no idea. I’ll think about it?” I tilted my head to the side, seeing if he knew I meant what I said. He nodded, kissing under my jaw and chin as he made his way down to my breasts. 

“I know the whole world knows I’m an ass man, but you're making me really like these too, though," he replied, pressing his lips on the tops of my breasts as I let out a shuddering sigh. I pulled him back by the hair and he gave an answering groan, "And hair pulling." 

"You like getting your hair pulled?" I raised an eyebrow at him, pulling him back even more to meet my eyes. His eyes glittered with amusement and I wanted to kiss him silly.  

"Yup," he popped the 'p' and smirked at me. “It’s why I haven’t cut my hair in a while. The buzzcut is easy but I love when a girl tugs on my hair.”

I started to breathe a little heavier, letting his words settle into me. I let go of his hair, slid the hand down to his neck and pushed him up towards my lips. He nipped at my bottom lip playfully as he went on, “I like lace. Lacy bras and panties.” 

“Like lingerie? Ugh,” I wrinkled my nose. I never saw the appeal and they looked pretty uncomfortable. Besides, I hated the feeling of lace.

“We’re talking about kinks and the one you really have a problem with is lingerie?” Chris looked like a gaping fish, his mouth open and eyes wide. “Are you serious? You hate it?”  

“I don’t hate it or have a problem with it,” I reasoned, pushing his cardigan off his shoulders. “I just don’t see the point. Explain it to me.” 

At least his mouth was shut now. He looked less shocked as he discarded the sweater off to where he’d thrown my shirt. “Jesus. I don’t know, it’s just kind of hot. Like a present.” 

I only raised an eyebrow in response.  

“I know, I just mean—fuck, I don’t know,” he said, obviously wracking his brain for the reason. “It’s just nice, I guess.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I like calling you a good girl,” he said gruffly, his eyes darkening at the thought. “I don’t even care if you call me sir, or old man, or Christopher, or nothing at all. I just want you to be my good girl.”

I shivered at his words, kissing him again with renewed passion. Jesus Christ, I wanted him to talk to me forever. Especially if he was going to talk like that. 

“I like it too. Anything else?” I murmured against his lips. He smiled against me before moving his lips down my neck. I squirmed in his arms but the hand pressed on my spine wouldn’t let me move much.  

He sighed on my neck—the warm, wet feeling making my eyes roll back into my head. Then he laughed deeply, saying only one word, “Biting.” 

“Mm, yeah? Bite me,” I breathed out, daring him. I remembered when he bit me the first time we’d done this thing and it felt heavenly. I pushed my hair to one side, exposing the bare skin to him. 

“Well, if you insist,” Chris snarked but his voice got all rumbly and it turned me on to no end. I buried my hands in his hair, running my fingers through it and pulling at the strands. Could you blame me? The man just told me it was a kink, I’d be torturing him if I didn’t do so.

His hot lips pressed against my lower neck and then I felt his teeth, only slightly pressing down. I shivered as he moved up inch by inch, biting down gently until he got to underneath my ear. The one hand still resting on my back went up and down my spine as he spoke again, “You’ve got goosebumps.”

“Thanks for letting me know, I had no idea,” I nearly winced at how breathy my voice was. It took away from the sarcasm. 

“Sassing me? That’s not being a good girl,” Chris raised his arms as I removed his T-shirt, the mischief in his eyes apparent. “You looking to get spanked today?”

“No,” I replied instantly, happy that I couldn’t noticeably blush. “I’d like to be able to sit comfortably when I need to drive and pick up the girls from school.”

“Fair enough,” he muttered, leaning back on his elbows as I stayed straddling him. I tried not to focus on his abs, but it didn’t really work out. “We got time…?”

He trailed off but I knew what he was asking. We’d already taken off each other’s shirts, it wasn’t a stretch to assume what he wanted. So, this was it. We were going to have sex again. It was going to become something we did. I guess that’s what friends with benefits entailed… I tried not to get lost in my thoughts, though. 

I nodded to answer him because I couldn’t trust my voice to be steady, looking at his face before glancing back at the muscles on his stomach. I leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the valley of his throat.

Palming his bulge through the denim of his jeans, I found the courage to suck gently on a particular vein on his neck. He leaned his head back with his eyes closed, groaning in the most beautiful way, “Don-Don’t leave a mark.”

“Why not?” I asked, my lips still brushing the junction between his shoulder and neck as I moved down to suck and nibble lightly against his collarbone. 

“Fuck,” Chris let out a shuddering breath and I realized in that moment that he both liked biting and being bitten. Good, I could use that to my advantage. 

“Why not?” I asked again, licking along his tattoo and glancing up at him through my eyelashes coyly. He shook his head with a roll of his eyes because he knew I was only trying to frustrate him. What? It was fun!

“Mm, you know how private I am,” he told me, pushing his hips up against my core. I felt bad as I remembered that my friends knew about us now. I’d probably mention that soon. After this, though. “Everyone would ask me who gave me the hickeys.”

“And you couldn’t tell them it was me,” I teased, sucking open kisses down his abdomen and allowing myself a little more time on the muscles there. He stayed resting on his elbows, keeping his head up to watch me.

“You shouldn’t tease me,” Chris’ gruff voice did things to me and I’m 100% sure he knew it. “You gonna be good for me?”

I inhaled sharply at the words before peeking up at him again and nodding. 

He grinned and rolled his hips underneath me, “Stand up and take your jeans off.”

“Yes, sir,” I mocked with a smirk. 

His grin dropped but it was replaced by a look of want as I got off his lap and did as told. I tried not to fumble with the button of my jeans, pulling them off quickly and throwing them at the growing pile of clothes in my room. 

I was left in a gray bra and black boy shorts, starting to second-guess my opinion on lingerie because he’d talked kind of passionately about it. But he looked at me with desire nonetheless, so I tried not to overthink it.

“Now, take mine off.”

I unbuttoned, unzipped, and then pulled them down his legs as efficiently as possible. I got back on the bed, settling in between his legs on my knees. I nuzzled into the crotch of his underwear, mouthing at the cloth. Then I placed my fingers at the waistband and freed him of the confinements, removing his boxer briefs and tossing them to the side. 

I licked the underside of his length before closing my mouth over the tip and he faintly moaned. His fingers carded through my hair as I took him fully in the warmth of my mouth. Hollowing my cheeks, I bobbed my head up and down deeply.

“Honey, I’m gonna need you to stop,” he panted but thrusted his hips up into my mouth anyway. He moaned once more before tugging lightly on my hair and seeing to it that I released him. I wiped absently at my lips as he grabbed my upper arms and pulled me flush against his chest. 

Chris kissed me slowly, like we had all the time in the world. I felt his tongue brush against my bottom lip at the same time I became acutely aware of his erection pressing on my stomach. I opened my mouth willingly, moving my tongue against his in languid strokes. 

I didn’t need much foreplay this time, all this talk about what turned us on made me horny. 

His hands went up my back, unclasping my bra with ease (I didn’t want to think about how many bras he’d had to have taken off over the years to get the expertise and yet, here I was thinking about it) and removing the straps from my shoulders.

Flipping me onto my back after he tossed aside my bra, he kissed along my jawline until he got to my ear, “I wanted you ride me but I don't think you have the time to be exhausted today.” I moaned softly, my hands resting on his broad shoulders as he settled between my legs. “So, I guess I’ll do most of the work this time.”

Making quick work of my panties, he flung them across the room as if they were being catapulted and I giggled at his victorious smile when they hit the pile of clothes. I pulled him in for a kiss, “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris murmured, grabbing both my wrists and pinning them above my head. As he bit my bottom lip, he pumped his length a few times and angled it towards me. His eyes bore into mine as he rubbed himself along my folds. “Color?”

It took me a moment to realize what he was asking, but I caught my breath and replied, “Green.”

“Good girl,” he cooed. He tapped the tip of his penis against my clit twice and made me jump, wriggling against him the best I could with my hands pinned down. 

“Don’t drag it out,” I whispered, almost pleading with him.

Apparently feeling merciful, he slipped into me and filled me to the hilt. We both moaned in unison and he leaned his head down, pressing his tongue against my nipple and biting down gently. I writhed under him, needing even more than what he was giving me. 

Chris smirked against my skin as he thrusted in and out. I exhaled shakily as he looped one arm under my leg and lifted it just so. He was even deeper than before and was making his mark on my neck even after he kindly told me not to do the same. 

I didn’t mind though, I loved hickeys.

“You’re so fucking hot like this,” he breathed in my ear before giving it a peck and driving into me faster. “Tell me when you’re there, baby.”

“I’m—I’m almost there,” I let out an involuntary moan at the end of the sentence when his thumb came down to rub my clit steadily. 

“Already? That quick?” he teased and I could feel the curve of his smile against my cheek. Then he hummed and somewhat sat up, still thrusting into me but at a different angle. His hand let go of my wrists and reach down to my ass, holding me against him. 

I sat up slightly as he did, leaning against my elbows and felt the pit of my stomach surge with pleasure. Chris groaned, feeling my climax start and thrusting his hips faster in order to prolong it. 

He swore as I came down from the high, his eyes never leaving my face, “Fuck, yes. I’m gonna come now, baby.”

He pushed in again, deep and steady as my thighs quaked. I gripped the sheets of my bed, wrapping my legs around his hips to get him as close to me as possible. I felt the sensitivity increase as heat spread across my body and slurred, “It’s—I’m gonna do it again, I’m gonna come—“

Stars. All I saw were stars.

“Oh my god,” he moaned, coming right after I did like the gentleman he was. He pumped into me a couple more times, shuddered and then flopped down on his back next to me. He glanced over at me with a shy smile when he thought I wouldn’t notice but said nothing else.

I was feeling giddy. I was here with him, feeling so good and, if his perfect red lips turning to an ‘O’ gave any indication, I was making him feel good too. Jesus fucking Christ, guys, I was so fucked. 

In more ways than just the one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie mentioned is Playing It Cool. Also, have no fear, the four days Chris spends with Simran, Archie and Maya will be in an outtake. I'm already starting on it!


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

Currently, I was promoting the movie I was in. Hello Again wasn’t an indie film but it wasn’t a huge block-buster hit either. It was releasing in a few days and I was nervous to go to both the New York and LA premiere. Being a minor character left me with little responsibility but it was still my first movie. 

Translation: It was still nerve-wracking as all hell.

I was in the middle of a break during press interviews when Chris called. He never really did that, so I got a little worried. I mean, I was already off because of the given circumstances. 

He spoke without preamble when I put the phone to my ear, “I have to shave the beard.”

“What?! Nooo!” I gasped quietly, going into a corner of the studio as we waited for interviews to start up again. “Are you serious? Why?!” 

“I have to, for reshoots! Stupid Steve Rogers,” Chris’ pout could literally be heard through the phone. “Can’t he just not shave for a little while? He’s fighting in a civil war, for fuck's sake. Where does he get the time?!”

I stifled a laugh at how exasperated how he sounded. He was fucking adorable. “I’m sorry you’re not gonna be hot anymore.”

“Sim, I’m saaad,” he whined, “I don’t wanna shave, it’s gonna suck.”

“You have to,” I told him, shrugging even though he couldn’t see me. “Anyway, is that all you called me for?”

“Is that all?” he repeated, his tone more joking now. “Is that all?! This is my beard we’re talking about. You get hot and bothered by it!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, I never said such a thing,” I giggled, stopping when I heard shouting on his end of the phone. “Are you on set right now?”

“Yeah, I’m walking to my trailer, why?”

“You mean, you’re with the likes of Samuel L. Jackson and Robert Downey Jr.?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “I’m so jealous of you right now.”

“I have their cell phone numbers and everything,” Chris teased. “We even hang out sometimes. I’m the one who made the group chat name ‘Avengers Assemble’, you know.”

“You don’t have to rub it in, Christopher!” I said, rolling my eyes out of habit despite him being nowhere near me. 

“You could meet them, if you wanted to. We could arrange that,” he told me. “They’d all love to see you.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed, thinking nothing of his offer. “Anyway, you called me during my break. I have to go in for a press interview in like ten minutes.”

“When are you coming back to LA? I miss ya,” he admitted and I could tell by the quiet on his side of the line that he was finally in his trailer. 

“I’m only in New York for a little bit longer and then I’ll be back for the premiere in LA. I’m not gonna see your clean-shaven face when I get back right?”

“No, I’ll be growing in the scruff by the time you’re back. Thank God. This week was already way too long,” he complained. “You’ll be back by next weekend, right? It’s the Super Bowl, you gotta.”

“You’re still gonna watch even though your team lost?” I asked, amused with his childish behavior. 

“Hey! Don't be an asshole,” he laughed. “Of course I’m gonna watch it. A few of my other buddies are coming down. Scott and Marc are, too.”

“Marc? Are we talking about the same Marc?” Marc couldn’t tell a football from a baseball. Granted, I was only a little bit better than him.

“Yes, the very same. He said Char invited herself. I’ve only talked to her like three times but she’s fucking scary so I’m not gonna say no.”

“Stealing all my friends, huh?” I pouted. 

“You wanna bring the girls too?”

“I don’t know if I wanna spend time with a friend-stealer.”

“Sim! You’re invited!” he exclaimed, but I could tell he wanted to laugh.

“Weeeeeell, let me think about it. Who’s doing the half-time show?”

“Uhm, Coldplay, I think. But I have on good authority that Bruno Mars and Beyonce will be there, too.”

“Beyonce? Queen Bey? I’m coming, say no more,” I said, sure that he could hear the smile in my voice. 

“Good, because a little something about a certain Civil War might be shown on a commercial break too,” he teased and I squealed.

“I was already excited about free food and Beyonce, now this?!”

“Who said anything about free food?” 

At that moment, I was motioned to get off the phone by my PA. I nodded to acknowledge her and then spoke again, “A Super Bowl party means food and beer, Christopher Robert Evans, you know that. I gotta go, I’ll talk to you later?”

Chris said goodbye and I put my phone back in my pocket, steeling myself to get ready for the interviews. My PA blushed and looked at me sheepishly, “Ms. Grover, if you don’t mind me asking, was that Chris Evans?”

“Huh? What? Yeah,” I admitted with a shrug. “Why?”

“Well, you guys are so adorable,” she started and I shook my head immediately. “I mean, I know I shouldn’t bring it up but—“

“Oh no,” I laughed. “We’re not together. We’re just good friends.”

I snorted to myself as she apologized and excused herself. We’re good friends, alright. Good friends that fuck each others’ brains out.

——————

The next days went by gruelingly slow but at least they went by. The premiere in New York was nerve-wracking but I got through it. LA was the easier one, partially because I was on my own turf and also because it was the second one I had to go to. By the time it was over, I actually had fun. It was both mortifying and thrilling to see myself on the big screen. Mostly thrilling. 

(Acting was fantastic. I wanted to do it again, as soon as possible. Movies were fun and wanting to be an actress was definitely the best decision I’d ever made.)

Super Bowl Sunday had my stomach twisted in a weird way. Worse than the fucking New York premiere. It was probably because Chris and I would be in the same room as everyone else… And they all knew (Apart from Chris’ other friends, unless he, for some reason, told them as well). That was embarrassing. I was hoping the girls would help with the awkwardness, but that was just wishful thinking. 

Archie and Maya were excited. I knew that much because when I brought up going to Chris’ house, they didn’t shut the fuck up about it. Maya asked me to put her hair in a ballerina bun and let her wear her favorite sweater. Archie stole my eyeliner and tried to put on makeup herself. Teenagers.

I drove the girls to Chris’ house and saw Marc’s car was parked in the driveway, along with two other cars I didn’t recognize. So that meant multiple people I didn’t know. Fan-fucking-tastic. I hated these kinds of get-togethers, but I knew I would stay for the food and beer. And my friends. Also, Chris. Well, he counted as a friend. I guess.

Maya ran up the driveway and rang the doorbell multiple times (I counted eight) before Scott opened the door with a huge smile on his face. We said to hi to probably everyone, there was maybe twelve people in the house including ourselves. 

Chaos was the Super Bowl. The TV was loud as fuck, there was beer and soda and cranberry juice (that Chris had specifically bought for Maya, according to Scott) all around, food was littered across the dining table and a bunch of people were screaming at the players who obviously couldn’t hear them.

I was observing some of that weird shit happening right now. 

“Char, get the fuck outta my house! I can’t believe you’re a Broncos fan!” Chris exclaimed. Char had just admitted that she was born in Colorado and that it was the team she was rooting for.   
“You’re just sore about the loss,” Char deadpanned, sipping her beer without taking her eyes off the TV screen but her face twisted into a smirk. “You don’t even care about the Panthers.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes good-naturedly in response. Then, he turned to Scott and Marc who were sitting way too close together on the roomy couch. (The same roomy couch Chris and I had sex on for the first time. Good times.) “Scott, get me some more beer, will ya?”

“Chris, you’re already standing. Why can’t you get it?” 

“Because I’m watching the game and you’re not,” he replied, settling himself down next to me on the floor. “And now, I’m sitting down anyway.”

Scott heaved a sigh and got up, making Chris pump a victorious fist in the air. I glanced over at him, rolling my eyes as he adjusted the backwards cap on his head. Indoors. This motherfucker was wearing a hat inside, in his own home. What a fucking dweeb.

Shifting in the blanket Marc had handed me earlier, I looked at the TV and tried to decipher what was going on at that moment. One of the teams was winning… that’s all I got from it.

“I really don’t know what the fuck is going on,” I leaned over, my voice low near Chris’ ear. I heard him inhale sharply and then he smiled at me brightly. 

“Sim, you fucking dork. You’re watching football, not solving a Rubik’s Cube,” he teased, his breath tickling me from the proximity.

“I’ll have you know I can solve those in under 30 seconds,” I stated, almost haughtily. I’d worked hard to be able to do that. I spent a lot of time figuring out things like that — puzzles, sudoku and crosswords instead of studying for exams. But hey, I got through college, didn’t I? What a waste that was, anyway.

“Well, Ms. I-Can-Solve-Rubik’s-Cubes, all you need to know about football is that you cheer for my team, no exceptions,” he smiled, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I smiled back softly, shaking my head at his antics.

Scott chose this moment to hand Chris a cold beer and shoot me a look saying ‘Girl, you guys are so obvious.’ I stuck my tongue out at him because I was a very mature adult. 

“Sim, can you get me some more cranberry juice?” Maya whined, suddenly appearing and throwing herself on Chris’ lap. He took her with ease, heaving only a small sigh as she shifted around and made sure he couldn’t see the TV.

I looked at my sister incredulously before seeing she was serious (well, as serious as a six year old could get) and getting up. I threw the blanket onto Maya and sighed, walking towards the kitchen. I noticed that she looked incredibly tired, so I guessed that I’d have to leave early and take the kids home.

Through the screen door to the backyard, I could see Archie and one of Chris’ friends, Tara, talking. At least she looked like she was having a good time, too. I liked when Archie was in a good mood and not challenging me at every moment. 

“So, you’re not fucking Chris?” I heard a voice ask as I opened the fridge. I tensed and turned around as I pulled out the juice, a polite smile on my face. 

Louis, the guy from the Halloween party a few months back, was leaning against the same counter Chris and I had fucked on. What a coincidence given what he was asking. I did my best to keep a straight face despite the memory of that.

“Uhm, nice to see you again, Louis,” I nodded, ignoring his question as I grabbed a glass from the cabinet. 

“You must be pretty close with him to be invited to his house,” he went on, raising his eyebrows at me curiously. I poured the juice for Maya and shrugged in response. 

“We’re good friends.”

“Just friends, huh?”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” I was starting to get irritated. I put the juice back into the fridge a bit angrily, my actions tense and rigid. “Didn’t we have the same conversation like three months ago?”

Louis noticed that and smirked. “Okay. Just checking. So, you’re single?”

I stiffened up again as I shut the fridge door, “I didn’t say that.”

“Oh?”

“I’m kind of seeing someone,” I lied. Jesus Christ, this guy was so obsessed with my sex life that now he wanted to be a part of it? Hell nah. No thanks, buddy. No can do.

“Hmm,” he nodded, coming up closer to me. Pushing a few pieces of hair behind my ear, he spoke again, “Well, let me know if that changes, kitten.”

Yuck.

“Hey Louis, I think Brad was looking for you,” I heard Chris say in the doorway of the kitchen. He was holding a sleeping Maya in his arms and looked very restrained. I sent him a grateful look that he seemingly ignored.

“Guess I’ll go see what he wants,” Louis replied coolly, pulling away from me and moving past Chris to leave the kitchen. I let out a breath of relief and ran my fingers through my hair.

“Sim, you mind coming upstairs with me?” Chris spoke again, softer this time so as not to wake the sleeping six year old in his arms. 

“Sure. I’m guessing the cranberry juice was a waste of time,” I smiled, but Chris didn’t look very amused. He hummed in acknowledgement before turning to go towards the stairs. I followed slowly, knowing he was being careful to let Maya stay asleep.

“She just knocked out and I thought she’d like to nap for a bit,” he explained, reaching the top of the stairs and finally looking at me. 

“Thank you, but I can take it from here,” I told him. “You’re missing the game.”

“I don’t really care,” he said, opening one of the bedroom doors. The room looked like the average guest room, with a queen bed and a bedside table holding a picture of the Evans’ family. “It’s not that interesting right now.”

I doubted that but I said nothing.

I pulled back the sheets, allowing for Chris to place Maya down gently onto the bed. Taking off her shoes, I tucked her into the blanket and made sure she was settled. He stayed quiet, following me out of the bedroom and into the hallway. 

“What was Louis talking to you about?” he asked, his voice hardening once we reached a good distance from the guest room.

“Um, he was kind of being an asshole. No offense, but your friend is annoying as fuck,” I said, raising an eyebrow at Chris’ behavior. It seemed familiar but I couldn’t quite remember why.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

“He asked if I was single,” I added, hesitantly.

“What?” he narrowed his eyes at me, stopping and pulling me into the closest room. His house wasn’t a mansion per se, but he had, what looked like, four to five bedrooms upstairs and two downstairs. This room was smaller than the last, with a day bed and a dresser that took up most of the area.

“I just said I was dating someone,” I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest. Chris’ eyes widened and I felt the need to explain further. “I had to lie to get him off my back. I didn’t want to say I was single because he was clearly trying to ask me out.”

His face faltered as he nodded, “Yeah, Louis tries to get with anyone.”

“Really taking a jab at my ego there,” I teased, making him crack a smile. It took us both a moment to realize how close we actually were and when we did, we met eyes at the same time.

“Sooo…” and the smile he cracked had already turned wicked.

I shook my head profusely, already seeing where this was going. “No, no way. Scott, Marc, and Char all know about this situation we have going on.”

Chris shrugged, still smiling at me as he inched closer. “I know. Scott has a big mouth, everyone downstairs probably knows we have this… Agreement.”

“That’s a bit humiliating,” I sighed, running my hands through my hair. I was already shaking and he hadn’t even touched me yet.

“They probably think we’re doing it right now,” his voice went lower and I jumped slightly when his arms came around to circle my waist. I clung to his forearms in an attempt to ground myself but it didn’t really help. His touch was dizzying. 

“They do?”

“Mhm, so why not just do it?” he asked, running his nose along my hairline. He pulled back and I looked up at him in time to see him raise an eyebrow, “Whaddya say?”

“Um. Your beard is growing back nicely.”

“Is it?” I thought so, too,” he let me deflect but he still surrounded me, his scent and warmth and firmness all wrapped around me. 

I wanted to but at the same time, it was kind of… embarrassing? I guess that was the word. I didn’t want to have sex and then try to get cleaned up, go downstairs and act like no one knew what we were doing. That’d just be, well… Embarrassing was truly the right word. 

“Stop thinking so much, you’re gonna tire yourself out before I have the chance to,” he kissed my cheek and I felt his lips brushing against my skin as he spoke. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.” 

I shivered but leaned in closer to him. He smirked and I could tell that he knew he had me, “… I could just do stuff to you and then we could go back downstairs.”

I moaned faintly, feeling his fingers caress the exposed skin above my jeans. His hands went behind me, grabbing handfuls of my ass. He continued whispering in my ear, “Whether we fuck or not, everyone downstairs already made their assumptions.”

He made a good point.

He was making an even better point when he took one hand from my ass to go between my thighs. I suddenly felt like I should be sitting (err, laying?) down. His lips pressed against my neck, “Is this okay?”

Is this okay? IS THIS OKAY? Yes. It is. It’s very okay.

I could only nod, feeling my legs waiver as he rubbed me through my jeans. Chris saw me struggling and pushed me against the wall, pressing me against it to keep me standing. I leaned up on my toes, catching his mouth in a long-awaited kiss. 

He licked into my mouth and unbuttoned the top of my jeans, pulling them down my thighs. I let out a shaky sigh into his mouth as he rubbed against the outside of my panties— 

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU TWO ARE DOING UP THERE BUT BEYONCE IS ON THE TV SCREEN AT THIS VERY MOMENT,” we heard Marc say behind the door. He wasn’t yelling loud enough for it to wake up Maya (she had literally slept through an earthquake before anyway) but he wasn’t being very quiet either. Chris sighed, leaning his forehead against my shoulder with his hand still between my thighs. 

“Is there any chance you’d miss Beyonce—“ he started but I pushed his hand aside and started pulling my pants. He sighed defeatedly, “Guess not.”

“Don’t ever make me choose between Beyonce and you,” I patted his scruffy cheek with one hand while zipping up my jeans with the other. “You’re always gonna lose.”

Chris rolled his eyes so hard that I thought they’d get stuck in the back of his head like nagging moms tell you they will. (They didn’t, thank God, because his pretty face would be ruined by that.) He sighed again, kissed the tip of my nose and said, “Come on, Beyonce’s waiting.”

We walked back down the stairs with some eyes on us, but I think both of us acted like we didn’t notice. That was probably why we were both actors. Not that I was comparing my level of acting to his, we all knew he was a better actor than me. Hell, he was a better person than me. A better everything than me, while we were being honest.

Marc sent me a shit-eating grin while Scott sent presumably the same one to Chris. I’m sure we both had the identical “Say anything and I will murder you” scowls on our faces. 

The half-time show was amazing, obviously. Scott and Marc were now moved to the love seat, cuddling and whispering to each other more than watching the game like before. Char, Brad, and Louis were still shouting at the TV. Archie seemed at ease, sitting at the dining table with Tara and having, what looked like, pleasant conversation. 

Chris and I were sitting on the couch when Maya came back downstairs and sat down on his lap again. It was the final quarter of the game but he barely paid attention to anyone but her now. 

“Chris, can we please take a picture?” she asked, poking him in the cheek. He smiled at her sweetly and nodded, looking at me expectantly.

“The fuck? Maya, your hair is a damn mess,” I told the kid and she just pouted. “You’ve been sleeping on it!

“It is not! It’s chic,” Chris defended her, smoothing back the unruly strands of hair that fell on her forehead. “Stylish and sophisticated!”

“Not like Sim! She’s boring!” Maya stuck her tongue out at me and pointedly looked at Chris to do the same. He did. 

I rolled my eyes. They were two six year olds together. “You guys are a bunch of dorks. At least let me fix your hair, Maya. You’re about to take a picture with a celebrity, you know.”

“I know,” she grinned, moving off said celebrity’s lap to sit in between us. “Do my hair in a french-braid, please.”

“I’ll do it, “ Chris offered and I shrugged in response.

“Sure, I think you’re better than me anyway.”

While he did her hair, he asked her about school and appropriately shouted at the TV to show support for his team in between. I took out my phone and snapped a few pictures of them in the moment, being as sneaky as possible, of course. 

“Sim, can we use your phone? I like the colors,” Maya told me rather than asked me.

“You mean filters, baby girl.”

“Whatever! Can we take the selfie now?” Maya asked, already messing with the end of her newly done braid. Chris sat her back on his lap as I nodded. Shifting both of himself and her to look at me, he beamed a smile at the camera.

Archie’s voice popped up behind me, “You know, it’s not called a selfie if another person is taking the picture and there’s more than one person.”

“Let me live my life!” Maya exclaimed, sounding more and more like me every minute. Chris laughed, tickling her sides just a bit before telling her to look back at the camera. 

“I wanna take pictures with Chris,” Archie said determinedly. “Maya, move.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Nope! You’re not the boss of me!”

“Be quiet!” Char called from the front of the living room, keeping her eyes on the screen. It must’ve been close to the end of the game. The girls immediately quieted down but looked at Chris with similar pleading looks. 

“I can take pictures with everyone. But no pictures go online unless they’re approved by me,” he said, adding the last part with a smirk. “I can’t be looking ugly on the internet.”

(Later, he’d approved a picture of the girls and him. He let me post it on Instagram and people kept commenting to see if those were his kids. It also really did only fuel the dating rumors, now that I thought about it. Whatever, though, we knew the truth.)

“So, you’ve never been able to approve your pictures before, I’m guessing?” I teased as Archie took the empty seat between us. 

“Shut up, Sim,” she scoffed. “Chris could make trash bags look hot.”

I couldn’t disagree with that, but he was blushing so I didn’t comment. For him, obviously. Not because I was embarrassed or anything… Nope!

The game ended soon after. Chris’ friends Brad, Louie and Tara headed out, all saying that they had to work tomorrow or catch flights to be wherever. He hugged them and took a few minutes to say to goodbye to each. 

Char left a couple of minutes after that, hugging me goodbye and thanking Chris while saying she had “an early morning of bullshit to deal with.” 

“We are just so tired,” Marc fake-yawned, as Scott stretched out his arms exaggeratedly. Who did they think they were fooling? If they wanted to go upstairs to fuck around, then by all means. It wasn’t like I wasn’t doing that a little while ago.

“We’re gonna go to bed,” Scott added, tugging Marc along. 

“Stay quiet up there!” I yelled, trying to earn some payback from earlier because I was petty. Marc flipped me off but Scott winked. I turned back to Chris, who was sitting in between Archie and Maya on his couch. “I guess we should get going too.”

“Nooooo!” all three of them whined in unison, I almost thought they’d planned it.

“Chris was talking to us and said we could spend the night,” Archie told me, hoping I would go along with whatever she was suggesting. 

Maya looked at me with puppy dog eyes, “Please, Sim. Chris is okay with it! Plus, he said we could play games.”

Chris pouted, literally, jutting out his bottom lip and nodding along to what Archie was saying. 

“You have school in the morning,” I reasoned, shaking my head. And I had no self-control to stop myself from going into Chris’ room tonight if we stayed… But I didn’t say that out loud.

“So? You can drop us off from here! It’s actually closer to the school,” Archie replied. “I can show you on Google Maps, if you want.”

“I don’t need to see that,” I groaned, looking down at the THREE children on the couch. “We don’t have our toothbrushes or clothes or your backpacks, if you think about it!”

“So, we can bring ‘em,” Maya shrugged, bouncing excitedly in her seat.

“Drive back to the apartment and then back here?” I shook my head insistently. “We have to get home. I’m serious, guys.”

“You suck!” 

“Why are you so mean?!”

Then the girls looked at Chris for help. 

He deflated from whatever argument he had after I gave him a look that said ‘Don’t fuck with my decision.’ “Okay, girls, maybe next time.”

“What?! Chris, you’re supposed to be on our side,” Archie crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

“Don’t you like us anymore?” Maya questioned softly. I could tell she was just laying it on thick to get him to break, and it was working. He broke immediately but I guess I couldn’t blame him.

“Of course I like you girls,” he engulfed her in a hug, his muscles looking comical around her small frame. “You’re the best!”

“Then why don’t you want us?” 

“Sim,” Chris begged, looking at me for help. 

“I’m the bad guy, not him,” I said decisively. “Now get your stuff, we need to get going.”

“Whatever,” Archie stood up and brushed past me, Maya following along slightly slower.

“I’m sorry,” I smiled at him a bit sheepishly once they were out of sight, biting my bottom lip. “They really do have school tomorrow. If it had been a Saturday…”

“No worries, sweetheart,” He smiled back warmly. He reached out his hand and grasped my own, squeezing lightly as he gazed up at me. “Was the trailer worth all the madness?”

“It was! I’m gonna cry during the movie, huh?”

“Probably. I did,” Chris shrugged before looking back up at me curiously, “Hey, do you remember what studio we’re filming at this weekend?”

“What?” I furrowed my brows, tilting my head slightly to the side. I was acutely aware of his hand still holding mine but I tried not to focus on it and instead focus on what he was saying.

“You know, on Valentine’s Day. The Gucci Guilty interviews we have.”

“For the love of God, I really should read more of Lorena’s email updates.”

——————

The next week went by faster than the previous week had. I didn’t know if it was because I was back in LA or because Chris and I were talking a lot more or what the reason was, but it went faster. So, it was safe to say that the weekend, and Valentine’s day, came up quickly. Almost too quickly.

I hated Valentine’s Day. Really, I did. I was one of those skeptics who talked about people could be romantic any day of the year and chose to overcompensate on this one day. It was annoying to see every couple within a five mile radius of me toting around teddy bears, chocolates, and roses. My hatred may have come from being bitter. I’m not gonna lie. Plus it was pretty early in the morning, so I was grumpy anyway… But I had always hated Valentine’s Day.

“You ever had a Valentine?” Chris asked. 

We were sitting next to each other, getting our hair and makeup done. His makeup would obviously take a lot less time than mine, but his hair and beard took longer. They had to slick that perfect mess back and make his beard look perfectly soft. He already looked like a sculpted God, though. 

“One time a boy fake asked me to be his and then laughed with his friends when I said yes? Does that count?” I wondered.

“Child, no,” the woman doing my makeup sadly shook her head, jumping into the conversation quickly before moving on to finish my foundation. 

“Yeah, seriously? That’s fucked up,” Chris clenched his jaw. “You haven’t ever had one?”

“My longest relationship was like, six months and it started in like June,” I rolled my eyes, thinking back to the past. My love life was shit. “So, no.”

“Mine was five years.”

“On and off?”

“Yeah, but it was still five years.”

“If you say so.”

“Really, though, never had a romantic Valentine’s Day?”

“Nope,” I shrugged lightly, trying to make sure I didn’t fuck up the makeup artist’s work. “Never even had a romantic date. The best date I’ve ever been on was going to an In-N-Out and him paying for the food. Though he did tell me I couldn’t get a milkshake. Said he didn’t have enough money for that.”

“Jesus Christ, I don’t even want to hear about your worst date. You need better dates,” he heaved a sigh as my makeup artist nodded in agreement. 

“Aww, you seem like the type of guy who’d pay for the milkshake,” I teased, biting my lip to stop my smile. 

“Oh shut up. I wouldn’t take you to In-N-Out, that’s for sure,” Chris laughed. 

“Yeah? Where would you take me?” 

“Disneyland. Easy,” he replied with what looked like a smug grin from my peripheral vision. His hair was almost done and then he’d be all set. I, on the other hand, still needed most of my makeup done. 

“That’s way too expensive.”

“Disneyland is the happiest place in the world and you love it, so it’d be worth it.”

My makeup artist stopped doing my eyeshadow and looked at Chris, “You’d be the best boyfriend.”

“Thank you, I try.”

“Is he blushing?” I asked rather loudly, despite already knowing the answer.

“Shut up, Sim.”

It was weird to hang out with him on this day, even if it was a work obligation. So I decided to play a little game with him. I wanted to see how far I could take this ‘benefits’ thing. Sure, it wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had, but I didn’t care. It would be fun! And the end result would have me being thoroughly fucked, if all went well. 

You see, I was wearing a skirt. It was short enough to be a bit scandalous but long enough to hide my naughty parts. It didn’t really matter how short or long the skirt was because the interview had us sitting down for majority of it anyway. But I wasn’t wearing any underwear. He’d find that out when we sat together for the video. That was when the game would begin. 

He got done getting ready before me, as expected, so he went to do his video first. I watched from afar, trying not to sigh dreamily as I thought of how sweet he was. Yeah, this holiday sucked but Chris made it seem not so bad. I know I wasn’t supposed to think about how amazing of a boyfriend he would be but the way he was answering these questions wasn't helping. 

I needed to spray myself in the face with water, like a goddamn dog in training. Boyfriends weren’t all that great anyway. Not in my experience. Chris and I… We had mind-blowing sex and our friendship was fucking fantastic the way it was. Besides, why would I want to ruin a perfectly good friendship? He didn’t seem to want anything more either, he never said so.

“Do you considered yourself a romantic?” the interviewer asked him, which wasn’t surprising since it was a video for Valentine’s Day.

“I’m a firm believer in all things romantic. Not just for a girlfriend but for friends, family, even myself. I consider myself romantic because I find love in everything. The world itself is romantic,” Chris spoke eloquently and nothing like the bumbling mess that I was. I felt like I couldn’t move from watching him. “Nature is romantic to me. Art is romantic to me. People as a whole are romantic to me. So, yeah, I’m pretty accurately a romantic.”

“So what’s the most romantic thing you’ve done for a girlfriend?” 

“Well, for a girlfriend, I’ve done a lot of romantic things. Cliches are a given. Roses, chocolates, jewelry. Fragrances obviously, Gucci is a fantastic one,” he added. “Oh, I love waking them up with surprises.” 

While no one could see the mischievous glint in his eyes, I could insinuate what he meant when he said waking them up with surprises. And while it wasn’t very romantic, if I was on the receiving end, I’d be pretty damn happy.

“You know, romance is such a strange concept,” Chris started, a small smile on his lips like he was telling himself a joke. “What I think is pure romance, other people think is normal every day things. Like, listening to your girl talk about her dreams and aspirations. Giving her a long hug. Watching the sunset or sunrise with her. Sharing a secret with her. Taking her some place that’ll make her smile a smile just for you.”

“What about for a family member or a friend?” At this point, the interviewer was just waiting for him to stop talking. I wanted to hear him go on, I could listen to him all day. If they cut this out of the video, I’d be outraged. His words were beautiful. 

“Hmm. Well, once, my really good friend was feeling down,” he explained, a smile tugging at his lips. I furrowed my eyebrows and listened closer to this story. “She felt self-conscious and I thought to make her feel better I’d get her all her favorite things.”

“Like what?” The interviewer pushed.

“I brought her fuzzy socks, ice cream, lipstick, face masks,” Chris laughed lightly, his eyes crinkling and killing me. “I even made her dinner.” 

Oh shit, he was talking about me.

He winked at me when he got done, gesturing for me to take his seat. I felt a bit shocked from the last part of his interview. I guess that was considered romantic. For a friend. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me. One question came to mind, though: was it crossing a line?

I cleared my head as best as I could to do my interview and I was stumbling through it to keep up with Romantic, Experienced Chris over in the corner. I lied, saying things I’d seen in movies as beautiful gestures in my own life. Sad? Duh.

By the time it came around to sitting together, I was a little behind on my plan. I still couldn’t stop thinking back to what Chris said. It was romantic, what he did. Right? But he said so himself, it was a friendly romantic thing. I almost snorted to myself at the thought. Friends could do romantic things? Bros could do romantic things, right? Wrong. It wasn’t romantic, it was just him being a good friend. Charlotte could’ve done the same thing for me and it would be a friend thing. (Minus the oral sex, but you know, who’s keeping track of that shit?)

After I convinced myself otherwise, I faintly felt Chris’ hand on my bare thigh. It was innocent, barely above my knee but I thought I could play it up for my game. I cleared my throat and smiled to myself as we started the interview. Thankfully, this one wasn’t on video, it was only for magazines.

“Gucci is a luxurious brand, what kind of luxurious things do you guys like in life?” we were asked and I let Chris answer first. I kept a hand on his, trying to be as subtle as possible as I moved our hands up underneath my skirt. I could hear his slight hitch in breath but nothing else gave away what I was doing. I’d have to give him props. 

He finished his answer right as I slid his hand up to my upper thigh, almost dipping between my legs when both he and the interviewer looked at me expectantly. I cleared my throat with a smile and answered.

Finding an opportunity, I pressed his hand down between my legs and I could see him gulp from the corner of my eye. Oh yeah, did I mention I wasn’t wearing underwear? His fingers brushed against me and I heard his intake of breath. 

“You sure you wanna keep teasing me like that?” he ducked down, pressing his lips to my ear subtly as the interviewer looked through her notes.

“Mhm, I’m very sure.”

“Keep this up and you just wait,” Chris warned low in my ear. “I’m gonna hike up this pretty little skirt of yours and fuck you in your dressing room.”

I smirked as the interviewer asked us more questions. I felt like I’d answered these questions a million times despite only really having worked for Gucci for maybe four and a half months. Probably because I had to insert the brand’s name in nearly every question. Ugh.

Finally, it was over and we could go back to our dressing rooms to wash up and leave. Chris sent me a dark look but I just skipped (not really, I was in a skirt, for fuck’s sake) along to my room with a wave goodbye to him.

I knew it wouldn’t take him long to get to me, and it didn’t. Hardly three minutes later, he was knocking on my door, leaning against the frame when I answered. He pushed himself inside and locked it behind him, holding my face in his hands and kissing me. 

He grabbed my wrist and pressed my hand against his growing erection, making me pull away to gape at him, “You barely touched me.”

“I know, and I’m still rock hard,” he nearly whined before sucking on my bottom lip. 

“Boys are weak,” I mumbled against his lips and he laughed a little breathlessly. Maybe this was the work of not having sex for a few weeks, but I was proud to see I had this effect on him. 

“We are,” he agreed, turning me around and pushing me against the counter top.

He flipped my skirt up, knelt behind me and I froze. “What are you doing?”

“I said before that I’m gonna hike up this skirt and fuck you,” he murmured, running his hands over the curve of my ass softly. “But I wanna do it first with my tongue.”

I leaned on my forearms, pushing my ass out for him. He spread me with his fingers, tracing my lower lips with his tongue lightly. He half-moaned, “You’re already so wet.” before he pressed his face right where I needed him to. I gasped, shamelessly trying to grind myself against his mouth but he didn’t allow me to.

“Please,” I whispered, giving in so easily even when I knew I had some control. He made me feel like that, like giving up control to him would be the best decision I ever made.

Chris hummed in acknowledgement, moving so that he was sitting under me. He pressed light kisses along my slit, teasing me on purpose. He was obviously enjoying it as I wriggled around, “Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart, you’re so hot and desperate for me.”

I could only moan softly, barely make much of a noise. I tugged on his hair to beg for more and Chris let out his own groan into my thigh. 

“I should really punish you for that stunt,” he mouthed my inner thigh, sliding a finger into me as he spoke. “You were being such a tease.”

I gave no response, I was so close to the edge and he knew it. 

“How about you beg me?” He wanted me to talk, I gathered. I guess I’d try if it meant having an orgasm.

“Please?” I asked earnestly, gasping as he thrusted his finger in and out at just the right pace. “Yes, yesss, Chris, please.”

“Come on, baby, you can do better than that,” he breathed against my clit and my shaky legs almost gave out when he took my clit into his mouth, sucking and nibbling and making me see cartoon stars.

“Yes, please, ohmygod, it’s so good, I need just a little mo—Oh,” I moaned brokenly, pushing against the flicks of his tongue. I rode myself through the pleasure, a tight grip on Chris’ hair as I squeezed my eyes shut. I slacked against the counter, feeling the sudden need for air.

He kissed between my thighs and stood up after a few moments of silence. I heard him unzipping his jeans and felt myself shiver. His hands came at my hips and he kissed the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” I nodded, sitting up on my forearms again to look at him in the mirror that I actively avoided. 

“You wanna go on the couch? Will that be more comfortable for you?”

“No, I want it here,” I replied, surprising myself. I’d never had sex this way, it’d only been missionary style all my life. And missionary wasn’t bad, but I heard other positions were much better. I wanted to see if that was true, personally. 

“Tell me if you get tired or uncomfortable,” Chris pressed his face against my covered back and somehow, it made it even sexier than if my back was bare. Okay, maybe not but it was still pretty hot. Though, maybe I was just at that point where anything he did could turn me on.

I gulped and nodded, realizing I hadn’t given him an answer. He lifted my skirt even higher with one hand, placing it up to my waist as his other hand rubbed my mound lightly. I jumped at the contact, so sensitive from the previous orgasm. 

When he slid in from behind, I shut my eyes, trying to get lost in the feeling of him. He sucked on the back of my neck, his hands digging into my hips as he thrusted in roughly. He was whispering in my ear, telling me how beautiful I was when I was about to come undone, how he’d only fuck a good girl like this and that I should never tease him ever again. 

I whimpered, feeling everything all at once and still wanting more.

To be fair, Chris realized that soon enough. He started thrusting even deeper, using a hand to brush over my clit as the other pinched my nipple through my shirt. I clenched around him, feeling the pleasure course through me and biting my lip to keep from crying.

He moaned and cursed softly, still thrusting in me to get his own release. “You feel fucking perfect, honey. This is why this is my favorite position.”

I think it was going to be mine, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, college is killing me. Please give feedback though because the less comments, the less people I think care. D:


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of shit going down in this chapter, guys.

Oscars Night was a spectacular night. 

Or so I heard. 

I didn’t get to go, obviously, because I wasn’t a big star nor was I the plus-one of a big star. But I still got to park my ass on the couch and watch it in my pajamas. So, that’s exactly what I did. The girls were sound asleep because they had school tomorrow, so I tried to be quiet (even though Archie had ear plugs and Maya slept like a log).

Spotting Chris on the screen, I nearly squealed just from the sight of him. He looked handsome in his suit and so did his sister, in her pretty black dress. Carly had recently flown in to visit and to go to the Oscars with him. I hadn’t seen him for the past six days and that was fine with me because we obviously didn’t need to see each other everyday or anything. 

But I had something to look forward to. Chris insisted I came along to brunch with them tomorrow. And, of course, if he asked me with those fluttering eyelashes and cutest of smiles, I was going to say yes.

After watching The Oscars and literally squealing in shock over Leo’s win (RIP that internet meme), I somehow drifted off to sleep on the couch. Unfortunately, I woke up around 2 AM to the insistent buzzing of my phone.

I glanced at the screen and shot up from my relaxed position. 9 text messages, 4 missed calls and a voicemail all from Chris. I tried to filter through them all without panicking, worried that something had happened to him. I slowly sagged in relief as I read each of them.

12:06 AM: I know you watched the Oscars tonight, did ya see me? I clean up nice, huh? ;)

12:40 AM: What the fuck is Mad Max, by the way? You gotta show me it, I feel like you’ve seen it… You watch lots of movies. :)

1:28 AM: They have bottomless champagne here. Bottomless!!! WITHOUT A BOTTOM!

1:29 AM: You know what does have a bottom though? You, you got a bottom. Real NICE one 

1:35 AM: OMG I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!!!!!!!!! :( :( :(

1:49 AM: Carly and Scott say hi! So did Emily Blunt, I told her about you after she was trying to set me up with a friend and I was like “nahhhhhhh son!! I got an arrangement"

1:50 AM: I wanna come see you but Scott and Carly said to wait till tomorrow. They’re no fuuuuun, I wanna see you now!!!!!!!!!

1:57 AM: I’m coming to see you anyway, FUCK THEM!!!! Please be awake :D

1:59 AM: [image] A selfie of Chris. What else could I expect after those messages? He was smiling widely at the camera and, from what I could tell by the bad lighting, obviously drunk and in the back of a car. At least he wasn’t driving himself to my apartment.

I listened to the voicemail he’d sent only three minutes ago, hearing his voice slurring loudly on the phone, “SIM! I’m gonna be outside your apartment in— is it fifteen? Yeah, that sounds right — FIFTEEN minutes! You better have your sweet ass down in the lobby to see me or… Or… I’mma be real sad. Real sad, Sim. You can’t see me right now but I’m pouting, I’ll send you a picture of that. And I’ll send this funny dog meme I saw, I think you’d laugh.”

Sure enough, as soon as I looked down at my phone, there were two new image notifications from him. As promised, he sent both a dog meme (which did make me laugh, he was right) and a picture of him with his bottom lip jut out and those puppy dog eyes. The cutest thing.

I got up from the couch, shaking my head at his antics but getting ready to meet him downstairs anyway. Glancing in the mirror, I decided not to change out of the tank top and sleep shorts I was wearing. Instead, I slipped on a hoodie, some socks, and my Converse, rubbing my eyes under my glasses and combing my fingers through my hair quickly to seem presentable enough at 2:30 AM. I was assuming he’d just meet me for a few minutes and then get the driver to take him back home. 

Bounding down the stairs to the basically empty lobby, I got out to the curb where Chris would probably have his driver park. It didn’t take long for his car to roll to a stop where I’d thought he’d be and he stumbled out of the car with little grace but all the cuteness. 

He shut the backseat door, waved off the driver and then took sight of me. Grinning, Chris hugged me immediately. He kissed my forehead and mumbled, “Sorry bout all the messages. I just missed ya so much. I wish I coulda taken you tonight, that would've been cool!"

"I wished you would've too! You witnessed history tonight with Leo winning that Oscar,” I teased against the warmth of his chest. He reeked of alcohol but he was warm and I could feel his steady, though slightly elevated, heartbeat through his suit. 

"I haven't taken girls out with me for a long time though,” he said, almost sadly. “The last time was with Jessica and that wasn't to something huge like the fuckin’ Oscars."

"I thought you took Tara to the Oscars, like, last year,” I laughed. 

“That’s different!”

“But it’s still technically true!”

it wasn’t a jealous statement. I’d met Tara and I really liked her, she had a strong platonic relationship with him. Not that I cared or anything. They could do whatever they wanted, if they so chose but she was married, so I doubted that they would.

"Damn, you’re right,” he giggled onto the top of my head, pulling me tighter against him when he felt my shivering. "So smart, you got a good memory."

"Speaking of memory, I recall you telling me you never get this drunk anymore.”

"But I do," Chris pulled away, putting his hands on his hips and exaggeratedly furrowing his brows, trying to seem serious instead of wasted. "Just not with you. Never with you!"

"Why not?"

"'Cause I don't wanna say stupid shit that I don't want you to know!" He whined loudly before slapping a hand over his mouth and looking at me wide-eyed. His voice was muffled as he spoke again, “I’ve already said too much.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, slightly amused. "Care to explain?"

He kept his hand against his mouth, shaking his head quickly as he mumbled behind his hand, "I don't wanna say stuff."

"Stuff like what?" 

"I dunno. Stuff… Stuff like…” he shrugged, moving his hand down to undo his bowtie instead of (unsuccessfully) trying to keep his mouth shut. “You know, you’re so gorgeous. I like the glasses. You look like a sexy librarian. Want you in a plaid skirt and pigtails, riding me like I’m a fuckin’ horse.”

“That would be a schoolgirl outfit and not librarian, Christopher. Anyway, stuff like what? Stop getting side-tracked!"

“Okay. How about no outfit?” Chris amended, ignoring the last part of what I said with a goofy grin and unbuttoning the first couple of buttons on his dress shirt. I looked around quickly because we were still outside and he was being shameless and loud and drunk. "No clothes at all? But with the riding?”

“You’re ignoring my question!” 

“No, I’m answering it with stuff I wanna say!” 

“Okay, bud, you need sleep,” I shook my head, not knowing why I was wasting my time trying to have a logical conversation with a drunk-as-fuck-Chris. “Your car drove off. Should I call someone or—“

His lips cut me off, the taste of alcohol strong on them. I relaxed for a second against his sloppy but still sweet kisses before pulling away and rolling my eyes at his dazed expression. 

“Can I stay with you? Might as well, right? I’m already here,” he looked at me from under his lashes and gave me a shy smile. I groaned and his smile turned into a full grin because the bastard knew I was going to say yes. 

“No sex,” I pointed a finger to his chest and he nodded, his shoulders dropping comically. “And you have to be quiet because the girls have school in the morning and I need sleep if I need to drop them off.”

“I know, I’ll be good,” Chris whined, nearly stomping his foot down like a toddler in a ridiculously expensive tuxedo. Earnestly, he asked, “Can we cuddle though? 

I tugged on his wrist to lead him through the lobby as I spoke, “Yeah, we can cuddle. When you’re sober, we need to talk about why the fuck you haven’t seen Mad Max: Fury Road yet. I mean honestly, Christopher, it was the best goddamn movie of 2015.”

“That’s outrageous! What about Age of Ult—Okay, I’m sure you’re right,” he snickered, letting me pull him up the stairs and Jesus Christ, he was fucking heavy. I could feel his hot breath on the top of my head as he leaned on me the whole time. “So pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, Simran.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled, stumbling down the hall with him and hoping he didn’t wake up the kids. “Remember what I said about being quiet?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he giggled, clumsily “zipping” his lips, locking them and throwing away the key. 

“Funny,” I snorted before unlocking my door and leading him in. I toed off my shoes and Chris did the same, setting his bowtie on the kitchen counter top and his jacket on a chair at the dinner table. 

Taking off my hoodie and throwing it on the couch, I then grabbed a glass of water, crackers and some Aspirin for him. “Here, let’s try to make sure you aren’t too hungover tomorrow.”

“You’re such a sweetheart,” he smiled, pulling me for a kiss that would rock my socks off if I was still wearing them. I pulled away quickly, brushing his hair back and shaking my head. He ate the crackers and downed the medicine with water as I cleaned up and put away my clothes.

Chris waited with a grin, waggling his eyebrows up and down for me when I finally finished gathering everything. 

“Come on,” I said softly, grasping his wrist and leading him to my bedroom. We’d already established that friends cuddled. So, whatever.

Padding through the hall, I quietly opened my door and nodded for Chris to sit on my bed. He did so, before bouncing up and down slightly, giggling like it was the funniest damned thing that had ever happened. 

I looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to stop. He did after a moment and calmed down, though the red on his face showed how intoxicated he still was. Sighing, I started to rummage through his drawer to find some sleep clothes.

Yes, he had a drawer here! It had some extra clothes, his hair gel and skincare products (he had more than I did, which I constantly teased him about). I didn’t think about how weird it was, because it wasn’t weird. Friends left their stuff at other friends houses, just in case they had a sleepover. It happened! 

“Love these little shorts on you. Want ‘em off though,” he murmured in my ear. I jumped and shivered, feeling his arms circle around me all gentle and loose. 

“What did I say?” I reminded him, not turning back to face him.

“No sex,” Chris sounded downright miserable and I could hear the pout in his voice, his arms tightening around me in a hug from behind. “Cuddles though. I’m in dire need.”

“Hold on, you can’t sleep in that suit,” I replied, still searching but hiding a smile away. 

“No, I can sleep in my underwear though,” I could feel his grin because moments later, his teeth were tugging on my earlobe. Trying not to make a noise, I nodded and moved out of his arms.

“Okay, time for bed,” I peeled the covers off and settled in, doing my best not to watch as Chris undressed. I did watch though, because he was a beautiful sight. He unbuttoned everything slowly, lazily, as if he knew I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Hell, I was sure he knew I couldn’t. 

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, he slid into the bed with only his bright red boxer briefs on as I placed my glasses on the nightstand and made sure my alarm was set for the morning. He pulled me close, hugging my back to his chest and running his hand up and down my thigh. 

“No funny business, Evans,” I sighed, easing into both the pillows and his warm chest. I felt the rumble of his laugh and the brush of his lips against my cheek. He murmured an affirmative in response but I was already drifting off to sleep.

——————

I woke up to a blaring alarm and Chris’ arms tightening around me, his voice groaning in my ear louder than the beeping sound. “Sim, turn it off, please, oh my gawd, I feel like I’m gonna die. Who sets their iPhone alarm to the actual Alarm sound? Christ.”

“Shut up, ya big baby,” I grumbled, pushing his sweaty, distractingly huge arms off of me and rolling out of bed. “Keep sleeping, I gotta go take the girls to school.”

“What time is it?” His voice in the morning was scratchy and low and so fucking hot, it was unfair. But I had no time to think about that because I had stuff to do. But the sooner I did said stuff, the faster I could get back here.

“It’s like six o'clock in the morning, you got time to sleep!”

Chris just groaned in response, burying his head against the pillow he was now hugging. 

I put on my glasses and went to the bathroom like a zombie to brush my teeth and pee. I also pulled on the hoodie from last night, because the mornings were cooler than midday, and the same shoes as well. Then trudging into the kitchen, I grabbed some granola bars the girls liked to eat in the morning and set them on the counter. 

After that, I knocked on the girls’ room to see if they were ready. They were both morning people and usually they were ready before I was even up. Maya opened the door and, of course—

“Hi Sim, I’m ready for school!” Maya smiled brightly, tugging on her ponytail to make it tighter. 

“Took ya long enough,” Archie scoffed, but she had a small smile on her face. She’d been warming up to me for these past few weeks and I was relieved because I missed the girl who was eight years old and didn’t know what eyeliner was. The little sister who looked up to me and followed me everywhere, wanting to copy me. Who knew I’d miss it?

“I always get you guys there in time,” I replied, allowing Maya to slide between me and the doorway so she could grab her breakfast. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Archie said before lowering her voice to avoid Maya hearing, “How’s Chris? You guys seemed pretty cozy this morning.”

“Wh-What? He’s—”

“I came in to check on you this morning and you guys were cuddling up a storm,” she rolled her eyes, cutting off whatever excuse was on the tip of my tongue. “But don’t worry, Maya doesn’t know.”

Obviously she didn’t. If Maya knew, she’d be in my room jumping up and down on the bed to wake up Chris.

I struggled to get words out. “You don’t—You don’t even know!”

“Uh huh, sure,” she smirked, starting towards the kitchen but turning back, a soft look on her face. “I like him, you know. It’d be cool.”

My mouth turned downward and I know I looked mortified as I realized what she was saying, “I’m not… It’s not like that—We’re not—“

“Maybe you’re not,” Archie shrugged, interrupting me. “Yet. But you should be. Besides, we have all have a bet going on and if you get together in March or in August, then I get money so. Get your shit together either now or five months from now, kay?”

“What bet? Who all is in this so-called bet?!” I gaped at her but she just passed me by, winking without an answer.

On the drive to the girls’ schools and back, I kept thinking of what Archie said. Did I even want a relationship with him? Did Chris want one with me? I mean, he was older than me and had different goals now. I still wanted my career. He wanted to settle down and get married. And… Didn’t he want kids now? I didn’t even know if I wanted kids, not for a while anyway. Besides, I had kids, really. Two of them. I didn’t even really know what I wanted. 

When I got back home, I tried to forget about it. Pushed it into the back of my mind where I wouldn’t need to think about it until it was urgent. Absently tugging off my hoodie and shoes, I left them in the living room as I slowly made my way back to my room where I knew Chris was waiting for me.

It was better to live in the now, right? Be present and all that jazz that Chris spewed. So, I didn’t need to bother thinking of this stuff. And who was I to even think about it? Despite what people said, Chris never told me he wanted something different with me. He never said “Hey Simran, I want to have a relationship with you.” I was stressing myself out. He just wanted to have sex to pass the time and that was fine with me.

Or, you know, that’s what I told myself.

“Are ya gonna stand in the doorway or are you gonna come back to bed?” Chris’ still hoarse voice jolted me out of my thoughts. He looked more awake now than an hour ago, though that wasn’t saying much, and I could just tell that he’d brushed his teeth and washed his face while I was gone because he certainly looked cleaner. He chuckled against the pillow, lazily looking at me from his spot on the bed. “C’mon, I missed you.”

I laughing lightly, placing my glasses back on the nightstand just as I did the night before. He moved the blanket aside for me to get back in and I allowed myself the pleasure of being wrapped in his arms. 

It was 11 AM when Chris and I decided to roll out of bed and get ready for lunch. 

I beat him to the shower first, saying that we’d end up being late if we showered together. Besides, shower sex was dangerous and not very sexy. Chris took offense to that statement and said he’d prove me wrong. I told him I’d like to see him try, but not right now because we were already running late.

“Sim, you gotta go change,” he sighed, taking one look at my outfit. 

I glared at him sharply. “The fuck is wrong with my outfit, Christopher?”

“Nothing, other than the fact that I’m wearing the exact same one!” he snickered and I looked down at what I was wearing. A white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black boots. When I cast a glance at him, I noted the exact same things. Groaning, I ran towards my room to see if I could change something.

“You know what? I don’t care,” I called, grabbing a red jacket out of my closet and coming back out to where Chris was standing, amused. “This is a good outfit.”

“True, and your jacket isn’t the same color as mine,” he shrugged, slinging his arm over my shoulder as we made our way to the front door. “You did those lines on your eyes again.”

“It’s called a cat eye.”

“Yeah, that! Lookin’ all feline and shit,” Chris grinned, bumping his hip against my side. Sometimes it was crazy how short I was.

“Shut up and let me get the car keys,” I matched his grin, shoving him aside as I grabbed my keys and purse on the counter top. 

He sat in the passenger seat of my Camry as I turned on the radio and set it to a dull murmur in the background. The drive to the diner was comfortable, talking about random things that came to mind as we often did. We were on the topic of current projects coming up when he mentioned something absolutely ludicrous. 

He started off by clearing his throat, seeming a bit nervous, “So, you know that new Spiderman movie?”

“I know of it. Fuckin’ Marvel, man! That’s the third reboot and yet, no fucking Black Widow movie?” I teased as I made a right turn into the diner’s parking lot and Chris laughed less than I thought he would. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, they’re looking for a lead—“

“Didn’t they find Tom Holland?”

“They’re looking for a lead actress,” Chris glanced at me from the side, and I waited for him to go on, waving a hand as I looked for a spot. “And I put in a word… For you.”

I nearly stomped on the break pedal. “WHAT?”

“You’ve always talked about how much you love Marvel and how you’d love to be in movies like that,” he shrugged, but I could that he was still nervous of my reaction. “I just thought… I saw an opportunity for you and I put in a word.”

“You didn’t ask me,” I replied, pulling into an empty space. I was smiling to let him know it was okay. I wasn’t mad or anything, just shocked. Shocked as all hell. “But it’s just you putting in a word, right?”

“Well, you’re gonna get an audition. Lorena’s probably already emailed it to you, if you’d just check her messages.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Quit the nagging, mister!”

“Okay, okay,” he grinned, looser now that he got that off his chest. “So… You excited?”

As I unlocked my seatbelt, I spoke, “Of fucking course I’m excited. It’s fucking Marvel, Christopher. Thank you. You’re the coolest fuck buddy a girl could ask for!” 

I leaned over to press a small kiss on his bearded cheek and he laughed, sounding like he was a little out of breath. “Come on, they’ve already got a booth for us.”

Walking into the diner, we spotted the group immediately. Scott, Carly, Marc, and even Char was there. They were all seated, Scott, Marc and Char seated in on side while Carly was apparently waiting for us on the other side. 

“I see you’ve all been acquainted,” Chris chuckled, nodding his head for me to slide in right next to his sister. Of course. Because he wanted to see me be awkward and nervous. I hated this man.

“Hi Simran, right? Chris has told me all about you!” Carly said, giving me a side hug after I settled in beside her. “My name’s Carly, if he hasn’t told you.”

“Hi Carly,” I smiled and did my best to not seem nervous, finishing lamely, “Oh no, Chris did tell me your name.”

He snorted from my left and I elbowed him in the side. He whined, “Fuck! Violence is never the answer.”

“Shut up, Christopher.”

“I like you already, Sim,” Carly decided with a laugh. “And, I love your earrings.”

“Thank you!” I replied, reaching up to touch my ear and feeling Chris’ arm next to mine. 

“Can I ask where you got them?”

“Ooh, I’m not sure,” I bit my lip, trying to think. “They’re my mom’s, actually. I’ve been getting some good use out of them before she comes asking for them back.”

We giggled together, before I thought of my mother and how I actually… Missed her. Would she be coming back any time soon? I wanted her to… Anyway. After that, we looked down at the menu like everyone else was, ready to order our drinks and food.

“I don’t know why you even look at the menu, Marc, you always get the same damn thing,” Char muttered, making every pair of eyes at the booth look at Marc. Char had this way of roasting you without even trying and it was always funny when it wasn’t you. 

He sputtered, “Fuck you, Char, I do what I want.”

“She’s right, babe, you’re a little boring,” Scott agreed absently, browsing through the list of omelettes. 

“I’m not that boring, Scott, we’re moving in together,” Marc crossed his arms defensively before going stiff when he realized what he said. “Oh shit.”

“You’re moving in together?” Chris and Carly asked incredulously at the same time. Siblings.

“You’ve been dating four months,” Char scoffed, turning in her seat to look at the both of them. 

“Congratulations?” I shrugged, not seeing the big deal.

“Thanks, Sim!” Scott huffed. “Marc wasn’t supposed to tell you guys, at least until after we’d order our fucking drinks.”

“Hi, my name’s Lucy and I’ll be your waitress today. What can I get you guys to drink?” a waitress chirped, as if on signal. We all ordered our drinks around the table and she asked, “Okay, and are you guys ready to order or will you be a minute?”

“I think we’re all ready,” Char replied, giving her order first. After everyone finished, we patiently waited for the server to leave before Marc exhaled heavily.

“Okay, so we’re moving in together,” he shrugged. “Be happy for us. Scott basically lives with me anyway, we’re just making it official.”

“But isn’t it a little soon—“

“Don’t you think you’re moving too fast—“

“Hey, I think they’re adults who can make their own decisions,” I interrupted both Char’s and Chris’s comments. “Can we just be happy for them like they asked?”

“Sim’s right,” Carly sighed, “My baby brother’s just growin’ up. At least, one of them is.”

“Hey, I’m a grown up!” Chris protested, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that was very not grown up. “I’m a grown ass man, I’m almost 35 years old.”

“Act like it then,” I stuck my tongue out at him only for him to do the same.

“Children, please,” Char deadpanned, smirking at the both of us in a way I couldn’t read.

The waitress came back to hand us our drinks and told us our food would be ready soon.

“Thank God,” I groaned, leaning back against the booth as she walked away. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Me neither,” Chris agreed, taking a sip of his water.

Carly eyed us curiously as Scott cleared his throat, “So, did anyone else see how hot I looked at the Vanity Fair party?”

After a few minutes of conversation, we had our food served to us. I started digging into my hash browns as we went on to talk about the embarrassing things Scott and Chris did as kids. 

“You two were such bad influences on each other,” Carly shook her head, looking exactly like me when I looked at the girls. “Well, you still are.”

“Being the oldest sucks,” I nodded as she smiled at me. 

“You’re still a baby,” Marc muttered before glancing at a laughing Char. “And you are too!”

Carly asked, “You have sisters, right? Two of them?” 

“Yeah, everyone loves them,” I snorted. “But they’re two troublemakers.”

“I know the feeling,” Carly teased, pointedly looking at her brothers. “I’d love to meet them, but Scott’s dropping me off at the airport after this.”

“Aw, no,” I sighed sadly. I really did like Carly. 

“Maybe next time, you and the girls come to Boston. On Chris’ dime, obviously, the big lug has enough to spend on you,” she replied, wiggling her eyebrows.

Chris agreed on my left, “Just say the word whenever and I’ll have Ma set up some rooms for you.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t—“ I started to say no but Scott cut in.

“Of course you could, our mother needs to meet you. She’d love you!” 

“Maybe,” I conceded, trying to make myself smaller in between Chris and Carly. I bit my lip hard and then glanced at Chris, “Could you scoot out, please? I’ll be back.”

He looked at me with worry but nodded, sliding out for me quietly. 

I walked to the restroom, washing my hands in the sink and staring at the running water over my skin. While I stared, I thought about what made me so uncomfortable out there.

I couldn’t meet their mother. Not when I was so badly missing mine. My own mother didn’t care for me nearly enough, but I still missed her and loved her. I still felt the urge to see her and hug her. I needed to talk to my dad and soon, because I didn’t know what he was hiding. 

No one said anything when I came back but Chris seemed tense. I didn’t know what they’d all talked about while I was gone but after a few minutes of me making bad puns and talking about how fucking cold it is outside, things went back to normal. 

Before long, Carly was hugging everyone goodbye and saying she was glad to meet us. When she hugged me, she whispered, “I’m serious about visiting. My kids are gonna love you, too.”

I smiled and bit my lip, “I’ll talk with the girls.”

It was an empty promise, I couldn’t just go to Boston and stay at their mom’s house and be with their family. That was Chris’ alone time, his time to relax and not think of LA. I probably reminded him of LA constantly. 

Everyone went their separate ways after that: Char in her own car, Marc and Scott taking Carly to LAX, and Chris and I going back to my apartment. It was only one in the afternoon, so I had two hours before picking up the girls. 

Chris and I were fine, with no mentions of the weird tenseness at the end of brunch. He was being extra touchy today and I assumed it was because we hadn’t had sex for a while. Currently, Chris was tickling me as I opened the door to my apartment. I kept batting his hands away, doing my best to stop the constant giggling.

“I’m not turning on The Office if you keep this up!” I managed to get out between laughs as I opened the door.

“Aww, Sim, okay! I’ll be good,” he replied, resting his hands on my hips and nuzzling into my neck. See what I meant about extra touchy?

A throat cleared and we both jumped apart. Gasping, I turned to see my father standing in the living room with Maya and Archie sitting on the couch. Chris tensed next to me and I wanted to see if he was okay but I was so shocked with seeing my dad there.

“Dad. You’re… You didn’t call. I could’ve picked you up,” I stuttered, feeling the wind knocked out of me. “What are you doing here? Where’s ma?”

He cleared his throat once again, eying me and also probably the tall white guy with biceps the size of my head. Without turning around, he said clearly and with authority, “Girls, why don’t you two go to your room?”

I stood my ground, squaring my shoulders as if preparing for fucking battle. “Hey guys, why doesn’t Chris take you out for ice cream? My treat.”

Maya and Archie obviously would go for that instead of being stuck in their rooms. Sparing a glance at a confused Chris, I shoved my wallet and my Camry keys into his hand. “Just keep them busy until I text you, please.”

He nodded once before beaming at the girls, “Come on, guys. I need a fix of Cookies N Cream.”

They instantly brightened and that was the effect of him. He made people smile without even trying, it was effortless for him. Maya grabbed his hand, but looked at our father, “Thanks for taking us out of school early, daddy.”

“He took you out of school?” I nearly growled, sharply looking at the girls.

“Yeah, he got us food and then asked when you’d be back home,” Archie replied, her voice softer than normal like it usually was with our father around.

“I was only curious to see when you would be home, Simran,” my father intoned, a twitch in his eyebrow saying that he was ready to lecture me. “Archana only told me you’d be out for brunch with friends.”

He sneered when he said the word, shooting a look at Chris. I felt terrible for having him when I had to deal with my dad and I sent him a pleading look to get out and take the girls.

“I guess that’s our cue to leave,” Chris sighed, pursing his lips and awkwardly waving. Archie and Maya followed him like two puppies and with only one glance back at me, they were gone. 

“Archana made chai,” my father started. “Though she’s out of practice, isn’t she? I poured it down the sink because it was not good enough.”

I looked back at him, trying my best to remain calm and not lash out. “Stop. Just tell me. What are you doing here?”

“It’s your mother,” he hesitated, and that was when I knew something was really wrong. My dad never hesitated. He always said what he liked and disliked, what he wanted and expected. Hesitating was not a good sign. “She’s sick.”

“Yeah,” I agreed slowly, taking in his words. “You’ve told us that.”

“I never told you the extent,” he muttered. 

“It’s not like I didn’t ask a hundred times,” I retorted, feeling anger rise in me. How dare he just show up and be so cryptic? He owed his daughters an explanation and he needed to tell me right now. 

“Well, Simran, I was busy keeping your mother alive,” my father snapped and I stilled. 

“Explain.”

“Well. It’s…” he was hesitating again and I had the urge to scream. That was until he sat down at the dining table and I could see that he had unshed tears in his eyes. When he spoke, it was quieter, “We thought she was pregnant again.”

I nearly scoffed but thought against it. He was clearly in a bad place right now, worse than I’d ever seen him before. But. They couldn’t have another child, they’d just pass it off for me to take care of. They were not fit to be parents, as harsh as that sounded. 

“You thought she was pregnant, and?” I took a seat next to him, waiting. 

“And it turned out that she had ovarian cancer,” he replied, looking away. “It’s in a late stage now, there’s not much they can do.”

It was worse than I thought. I sat there, shell-shocked. I don’t know how long it was until I spoke again, trying not to cry, “So, where is she?”

“We are debating,” my father paused, looking me in the eye and then looking down at his folded hands on the table. “We are debating whether she should stay in India or come here for the… remainder of her life.”

“What’s the debate?” I asked, “You’re in America right now, she should be here too. Her daughters are all here.”

“Our daughters should be in India!” he barked, slamming his hand on the table and I jumped, remembering how scared I used to be of him. “Forget this stupid dream of yours, to act and be a model. Let us all go back to India and be a real family. Archie and Maya’s schooling will be fine and we can find you a nice boy—“

“Dad, we were born here! This is our home,” I argued, my voice wobbly. “India is not our home, despite how much you want it to be.”

I needed to be strong.

“You are right,” my dad managed to get out. It looked like it was difficult for him to say and I raised an eyebrow at him. “Your mother wants to be here, too.”

“Then bring her here,” I said in an impossibly steady voice, though I felt like I was breaking apart. “We want to spend what time we have left with her.”

We spoke for a few moments after that before my dad left for the hotel he was going to stay at, telling g me he’d call and let us know when mom would be back in the states.

“Oh and one more thing,” he said, putting on his coat as he got ready to leave. “You’re going to need to find a cheaper place to live.”

I paused. “What?” 

“Your mother’s medical bills are costing a fortune,” he shook his head, as if she had any control over how much money it cost. “We won’t be able to pay for something like this anymore.”

“That means I need to find something by the end of this month,” I gaped at him.

“Then so be it,” he shrugged before his eyes softened only the slightest. He put an unwanted hand on my shoulder that I fought hard not to brush off, “I will call you about your mother, though.”

I texted Chris to come back as my dad left. Feeling incredibly numb, I went on autopilot to get things off my mind. I turned on the stove, making tea if only to distract myself. 

The sound the door opening brought me out of my trance. I don’t know how long I stared at the boiling chai but it was done and ready to drink. Only I didn’t really care about drinking it. Frankly, I just wanted my mom.

“Sim, hey,” Chris voice was soothing and I didn’t know why until he touched my cheek. I winced, moving away from him. I’d been crying and hadn’t even realized. “Hey baby, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I-I-“ I gasped, suddenly forgetting how to breathe. “Oh god.”

Chris moved away from me, opening a cabinet and getting out a glass that he filled with water. He called out from the kitchen, “Girls! Why don’t you wait in your room and we’ll meet you there!”

I didn’t pay much attention to what was happening after that. I was vaguely aware that the girls went to their room and he wrapped his arms around me, rubbing his hand up my back. I pushed aside the water he offered me and buried my face into his chest. 

Once I’d realized I’d been crying, I just couldn’t stop. I felt like I’d cry forever. I was lucky Chris was there to hold me as I did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, don't hate me? Life's been shit and I'm working on it.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

Durga Grover wasn't an easy person to explain.

My mother, as I’d mentioned before, was a woman who shouldn't have had children. I guess now wasn’t the time to blame her or be angry. And I was angry. I’d gotten past denial in the first four days after my dad had visited and I was straight on to anger.

Angry at my dad, angry at the world, angry at cancer, angry at anyone and everything—

But back to my mother.

There was bad to her, negatives that I couldn’t overlook. She shut down a lot, especially after fights with my father. She was cold and quiet when he ridiculed me or yelled at me, she’d even join in at times. She was not the type you simply talked to about feelings and struggles, she just told you to make food and study hard in school. But she was my mother.

And... She was sweet, really she was. She was one of the middle aged ladies who would stop you on the street and pinch your cheeks. She'd tell you how cute you looked even if you were a grown ass man. She was a woman who made me eat almonds and drink milk every morning so that I could “learn” better. She gave warm hugs and smelled like a combination of some expensive perfume and Indian spices.

So, it hurt. It hurt to hear that she was dying. It hurt to know that I didn’t spend enough time with her, I never did. As much as it hurt me, I know I hurt her worse. I shoved her aside every time I was angry with my father, blaming her for his mistakes as well. To be honest, I still blamed her a little. She could’ve stopped him — she could’ve done something, anything to make sure I didn’t grow up like this.

I was a ball of self-doubt, constantly wondering if I was good enough. It was both my father’s doing and my mother’s lack of action that made me this way.

But still. I loved her. She was my mother. I could never hate her. She did have a hand in raising me and I owed it to her to see her, spend time with her. So when Archie asked during dinner one night, “Do you think we can visit mom soon?” I said yes.

Our father had informed us that she got settled into the hospital two days ago and it had only six days since he’d told us the news at all. After my mini breakdown with Chris, I asked him if we could forget about it. He had been gracious and said, "Of course, whatever you want” but I knew he didn’t want to. I hadn’t spoken to him since then, not sending so much as a text to him.

I knew it was unfair to leave him in the dark. But it was so hard to talk about. I told myself that after our first visit with mom, I’d text him to meet me somewhere. Maybe I needed to put this whole friends with benefits thing on the back burner while this went on.

So, I tried to push those thoughts back. It seemed like I’d been doing that a lot lately.

“Sim, do you even think mom will want these flowers?” Archie mumbled from the passenger’s seat as I tried to find a parking spot in the hospital.

“Yeah, Arch, mom loves petunias.”

“Yellow ones?” Maya piped up from the back seat.

“Yes, yellow ones,” I confirmed, putting the car in park and sighing. “Look girls, mom’s just going to be happy to see us.” I hope.

Maya wrinkled her nose as she concentrated on the back of Archie’s seat. “Daddy’s there too, right?”

I nodded, unbuckling my seatbelt. “Mhm, come on, he’s waiting for us in the lobby.”

We walked into the hospital in silence, Maya grasping my hand as the automatic doors slid open. Spotting our father near the gift shop, Archie ran up and hugged him tightly. Maya did the same as my dad nodded his acknowledgment of me.

We followed him through the halls and stopped outside what I assumed was my mother’s room. He gestured for the girls to go in first and they quietly obeyed. Sighing, my father glanced at me, “Your mother is tired, very tired.”

“How’s she been feeling otherwise?” I asked quietly.

“Sick, the chemo was a last ditch effort and it hasn’t shown much result yet,” he replied, taking a deep breath. “She will love the flowers and seeing you three, however.”

“The girls were anxious to see her,” I cleared my throat, biting my lip to keep the tears from welling up. I don’t know how my voice didn’t crack when I said, “We missed her.”

“I know. Now, I'm not going in, I have to go speak to a doctor,” he told me blankly. “You girls should leave after probably an hour, she’ll need her rest.” I nodded and he pointed to the door. “Well, go in. You don’t need to keep her waiting.”

He seemed like he didn’t even know what was going on with me, so I just nodded absently and opened the door to my mother’s room. The sight wasn’t easy to see but it wasn’t horrible, either.

Maya was laying in the hospital bed with my sickly thin mother. Archie sat in a chair across from the bed, talking quietly with them. My mom looked up and met eyes with me when I walked in. 

She looked tired and small, like the life had been drained out of her. Really, it had been. I felt tears prick my eyes and swallowed, “Hey ma.”

“Simran Devi Grover, you come here and hug me.” Even her voice had lost its usual severity.

“Of course, ma,” I smiled weakly, setting my purse down on the chair near Archie. My mother sat up slowly with Maya still on the bed with her. “Be careful, please.”

“Oh stop, you know I’m always careful,” she muttered before wrapping me in her small arms. She felt frail and cold, not like she used to. Her perfume and spices smell was still there, but the smell of hospital clung to her as well. I closed my eyes as we embraced, taking care not to cry.

“Sit down, the girls have been telling me about their lives here.”

“Like how school is and our friends!” Maya added, more subdued than normal.

“And your friends,” my mother turned her eye on me again, giving me a look that didn't lack any of the power her voice did. I paused, racking my brain to understand what she was talking about. “Who is this new guy I’m hearing about? Craig? Christian?”

“Chris,” Archie cut in with enthusiasm. “He’s famous.”

“The way Simran is famous?” my mom lifted an eyebrow at me. She was amused while trying to be stern. “Naked and rolling around with some man for perfume. At least the movie you were in wasn’t as shameless.”

“That guy she’s rolling around with is Chris,” Archie supplied, helpfully. “He’s Captain America, a superhero.”

“I am old but I am not dumb, Archana,” my mother laughed and I nearly winced at how she coughed afterwards. “I know this man, I’ve seen him in Simran’s bedroom.”

I sputtered, “Wait, what? I—“

“He’s on that poster, yes? With the American flag wrapped around him?”

“That’s his suit…” I nodded slowly. Even if my dad had eyed us suspiciously, they couldn’t possibly know what Chris and I actually did. He couldn’t have told my mother.

“Maya tells me he plays with her,” my mom said pointedly. “That he stays at the apartment a lot.”

“He puts on The Little Mermaid and sings with me,” Maya smiled happily. “He knows all the songs. Chris is really nice, super nice!”

“Yeah, he’s a good friend,” I added, avoiding my mother’s eyes. I came here to see how she was doing, not get grilled over my fuck buddy.

“Is he like Marc?” she inquired, a small smile on her face. “Is he gay?”

“No, mom, he’s not,” I rolled my eyes. Archie snickered as she scrolled through her phone.

“That reminds me. How is Marc? Oh and I miss Charlotte as well,” she sighed, clasping her hands together in her lap. “Bring your friends around one of these days. All of them.”

“All?”

“I want to meet Craig.”

“Chris.”

“Right, yes.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I began, but my mom laughed once more.

“Are you afraid I’ll embarrass you?”

“Mom, no,” I softened, seating myself in the chair beside Archie. “Enough about me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, putar,” she waved me off. “Your father has been such a bore, I just wanted to see my sweet daughters.”

“We wanted to see you too,” Archie said earnestly.

“You almost chose the right petunias, but I like pink ones best,” my mother nodded towards forgotten flowers on the counter. “Make sure this Chris brings me some.”

“Why are you so keen on meeting him?”

“I need to see this man who is making you so happy.”

I gaped at her. “Ma, it’s not like that.”

“Oh, Simran,” she shook her head as Maya snuggled up next to her. “You’re so stubborn sometimes. You smile every time I say his name.”

“You’ve only said it like twice because you keep calling him Craig, ma,” I muttered dryly, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest.

“You’ve smiled both times,” she observed, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge me.

I scoffed, redirecting the conversation. “Okay, we’re here to talk about you. So, tell me, how bad is the hospital coffee compared to my chai?”

——————

I dropped the girls off at home with a promise to be back in a couple of hours. Archie was thirteen, she could take care of Maya for a while without much trouble. Or, at least, I hoped. I texted Chris “I’m on my way over, don’t ask me about my mom” before leaving the hospital and he replied with an “Okay :)” only minutes later.

So, I was here, ringing the doorbell and feeling like an idiot. I had just invited myself over after ignoring him for nearly a week. What did I even want to talk to him about? Did I just miss him? Did I want to tell him that we needed to hit the brakes on whatever it was we were doing? I was annoyed with myself and the situation.

Chris opened the door, looking like a goddamn model in a beige sweater and dark jeans, which only annoyed me further. He had a smile on his face and his massive arms were around me in an instant. I could smell his deodorant and feel how warm he was.

“Hey,” he said when he released me. Did I mention Chris was a master at conversation?

“Hey,” I mumbled back.

“Hey, you changed your ring,” he said, gesturing towards his nose.

“What? Oh yeah,” I shook my head, furrowing my brows at him. In way of explanation I said, “My mom— she likes the stud better than the ring. Says it makes my nose look big.”

He frowned and motioned for me to come in. “Well, which one do you like better?”

“Ring, obviously,” I snorted. Feeling hesitant, I wondered if I should even bother asking the question on the tip of my tongue before going for it anyway. “What about you? Which one do you like?”

Chris paused for a moment before shrugging as he made his way into the living room. “I like the one you like.”

“Wow, that's a safe answer,” I teased, shaking my head in mock-disappointment. “No, really.”

“Honestly, I don’t care,” he smiled and it was infuriating how at ease he was while I was this tense. “I really do like either one.”

He sat on the couch and I did the same, both of us awkwardly looking straight ahead at his blank TV screen. I still didn’t know exactly why I came here, other than the fact that I felt bad for ignoring him. It was only six days, he could get over it. But I did feel like I needed to see him, be near him, feel his presence.

It was a bit surprising that he was annoying me right now, with his huge arms and bright smile and perfect hair. Maybe it was misdirected anger, but it was still there.

“Listen,” I cleared my throat, already feeling uncomfortable despite it only having been silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry, for ignoring you. After I cried. And stuff.”

Chris laughed, fully and fondly. I glared at him as he slapped a hand on his thigh. When he saw that I wasn’t laughing with him, it died down to small giggles. “Oh man, that was some fucking beautiful apology.”

“Shut up, Christopher.” 

“No, it was great. I should get that tattooed on my fucking forehead.”

I hesitated, glancing at him. “Are you mad?” He didn't seem mad.

“No, what the fuck?” Chris exclaimed. “I mean, sending me a dog picture would be nice but you had shit to deal with.”

“You’re candid today,” I laughed a little, sitting cross legged and turning to face him.

“It’s my day off, I’ve been relaxing,” he grinned.

“How many beers have you had?”

“Not enough to be drunk,” he rolled his eyes at me, facing me as well. “You want one?”

“I guess,” I sighed, pecking him on the cheek. It was weird how naturally that action came to me. “Thanks.”

He stood up, going into the kitchen. “Want food?”

“If it isn’t any trouble,” I called out. “I’m starving and didn’t eat breakfast or lunch.”

“What the fuck?” he yelled and I could hear the fridge opening. “Sim, you gotta take care of yourself.”

“I am busy taking care of two kids,” I replied. “And I had to tour another hellhole of an apartment this morning, and then visit my sick mother in the hospital. Forgive me if stuffing my face isn’t at the top of my list.”

“You know, you’re shit at apologies,” Chris muttered, walking back into the living room with two beers in his hands and some Doritos. He set the beers down and set the bag of chips down next to me, “This is my snack, I’ll go warm up some lasagna from yesterday for you.”

“Doritos, beer and last night’s dinner? Classy,” I grinned cheekily.

“I’m feeding you, shut up,” he laughed. “Put on The Office for us, will you?”

“Sure, sure.” Netflix told me Chris was on season six, so I paused the show on the episode he’d left off on.

Five minutes later, he came back with a plate of lasagna and a fork, settling down next to me. I unpaused the episode and then started eating. Chris took the unopened bag of Doritos and started going to town on that, crunching louder than the TV. We watched a full episode before I decided to say something.

I glared at him from the corner of my eye, “Christopher, stop eating like a goddamn animal.”

His voice was muffled by the chips, but he kept his eyes on the screen, “What?”

“Isn't this like, cheating on your diet or something?”

He lazily sucked on his index finger, “I'll workout extra hard tomorrow.”

“Mhm, sure,” I rolled my eyes, taking my final bite of lasagna before adding, “And don’t lick your fingers, that’s gross as hell.”

“Okay, mom,” he grinned for a moment and then casually asked, “How’s the apartment search going?”

“Shitty,” I set the plate on the coffee table and leaned back more comfortably. “I’m thinking if I just get a one bedroom apartment, Archie and Maya can share the room while I sleep on the pull out couch.”

Chris furrowed his brows, taking his eyes off the screen to look at me sternly. “C'mon Sim, you can't do that.”

“Well, it's not like I have a lot of options here.”

“Well, you know, you could always...” Chris cleared his throat and paused the TV. I shot him a ‘What the fuck?’ look. “I mean. I was thinking maybe, course only if you want to, you could always move in here.”

I barked a laugh, thinking he was joking, but when I saw that his face was dead serious I stilled. Allowing his words to set in, I raised my eyebrows, “I’m not a charity case and I don't like you doing so much for me.”

“I know, I know that,” he spoke quickly and earnestly, “But maybe just until you found a permanent place? I clearly have more bedrooms than I need. Besides, I love taking care of the girls.”

“That’s not…” I tried to refuse, shaking my head at him. “I’d have to pay you rent and this house costs a fortune.”

“You do not need to pay me rent,” he said firmly. “Just think of it as house sitting.”

“You’d be living here too!”

“But I’ll have press all next month and I need someone to… Water my plants.”

“You have one fucking plant.”

“Water my plant, then.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m not moving me and two kids into your house,” I shook my head again. “That’s such a fucking burden on you.”

“How about this,” Chris took a deep breath and looked pained. “I’m lonely, I hate coming to an empty home. I miss having people to come home to and look forward to seeing. I grew up with a big family and I’ve been living alone long enough. I need roommates.”

“Roommates?” I scoffed half heartedly. “Don’t try to guilt trip me with that lonely shit.”

“It’s true!” he looked honest but I glared anyway.

“I can’t stay here without paying,” I sighed.

“Alright. Five dollars a month,” he offered with a straight face. I smacked him in the arm. “Ten dollars a month?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Okay, okay,” he raised his hands in surrender and I thought he’d given up. “You drive a hard bargain. Twenty bucks a month, utilities included.”

I buried my face in my hands and snorted. “You are such a fucking dork.”

“A dork who wants you to live with him because it’s mutually beneficial,” he replied. “Besides, sex would be easy this way. We’d be a room away from each other instead of a drive.”

“Is everything about sex with you?” I teased, laughing behind my hands.

“No, but it sweetens the deal, doesn’t it?” he asked, grabbing my wrists and taking them away from my face. He looked into my eyes and said softly, “You don't have to decide right now. Just... Think about it.”

So, I did. I could just stay here until I found an apartment, it was a temporary fix. Archie and Maya certainly wouldn’t mind — school was closer from Chris’ house than from my apartment and they loved him. The “rent” was cheap, and I knew I’d offer even more money but Chris would never let me pay much, or at all, for being here. It wasn’t like I was going to be a burden to him forever.

But this was still hilariously sad. I was going to move into my fuck buddy’s house.

“I’m also a friend, ya know,” Chris muttered with a self-depreciating smile. He pulled away, grabbing his beer off the coffee table.

“How much did I say out loud?” I bit my lip and he laughed.

“Just that it’s sad to move in with your fuck buddy,” he told me, sipping his beer nonchalantly. "You know, if I was Marc or Char, you wouldn't be so hesitant to take up the offer."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "What does that mean?"

He shrugged, looking away from me. "I'm just saying that we were friends first. And as your friend, I want to be there for you."

“I know that, I just don’t want things handed to me,” I explained, running my fingers through my hair nervously.

“It’s just a friend helping a friend,” Chris sighed. “You still have till the end of the month, right? Just keep looking and if you can’t find something, just know that my offer stands.”

I nodded, trying to wrap my head around everything being said. “Thanks, Chris.” Absently sipping my beer, I missed my mouth completely and ending up dropping most of it onto my T-shirt and the top of my jeans. “Fucking fuckity fuck!”

Chris snickered, “What, were you getting lost in my big blue eyes?”

Gaping at him, I flailed my arms in ‘Are you fucking serious?!’ manner. He kept laughing, but stood up and went into the kitchen. I heard him shuffle around a bit and then the faucet turning on and off. He returned with a damp towel and motioned for me to get up.

Cleaning me off as best he could, he grabbed my hand, unnecessarily, and pulled me towards the stairs. “Come on, I got some clothes you can wear.”

“And here I thought this was a ploy to get me naked,” I muttered, glancing down at the wet T-shirt I wore. The beer was already seeping through the cloth and my bra was sticking to me uncomfortably despite his efforts.

“You literally spilled beer all over yourself,” he chuckled as we climbed up the steps. “How could I have planned that?”

“Oh, you’d have your ways.”

When we got to his room, I paused at the doorway, realizing I’d never been in it before. Chris disappeared into what looked like a walk-in closet to our right as I stood back. I felt weird, like I didn’t really know if I was allowed to come in or not.

Quietly, I surveyed the room. It was nice and simple, the walls painted a pale blue and a king sized bed in the center of the room, unmade and wrinkled navy blue sheets. In the left corner, there was a dark brown nightstand with books scattered on the top and a metallic lamp that was still lit. On the opposite wall, there was an archway, leading to what looked like one of the nicest bathrooms I’d ever seen. Then on the wall near the door I was standing at, there was a flat screen TV and a few pieces of art set on the ground that looked like Chris had never gotten around to hanging up.

“You can come in, you know,” he peaked his head out from the closet door, tossing me a red T-shirt that I barely reacted in time to catch.

“Nice room,” I mumbled, looking back around awkwardly as he emerged from the closet with a basket of his own laundry. He stopped at the door and looked back at me, holding the basket to his side.

“Alright, you change in here,” He scratched the bridge of his nose and smiled, before pointing to the archway. “There’s a bathroom there to clean yourself off some more.”

Nodding once, I started to grab the bottom of my shirt and pull it up over my head, only to hear Chris stuttered hesitantly, “I’ll be outside, just hand me your shirt and I’ll go wash it with some of my own clothes.”

My shirt muffled my voice even though I didn’t exactly know what I wanted to say anyway, “Oh, uh.”

He spoke quickly and I could tell he was backing out of the room through the fabric of my shirt, “You can meet me there after. The laundry room is downstairs, first door on your right.”

I frowned when I heard his door shut. Fully removing my sticky shirt and, after deciding it was best, my sticky bra as well, I wondered why he left in such a rush. Did he not want to see me like this? Was he not in the mood for sex? With the day I was having, I was certainly in the mood for a mindless roll in the sheets with him.

Knowing he was waiting on the other side of the door for my shirt, I opened it wide, topless torso and all, “Hey, could you wash my bra too?”

“Yeah, sure,” Chris choked, averting his eyes from my breasts and leaving right away.

What was up with him? We were just casually talking about me moving in and having sex with him, so why was he was being such a blushing virgin right now?

I raised my eyebrows at his retreating form but said nothing. Instead, I just grabbed his shirt and went into his bathroom. Washing the stickiness off myself and looking in the mirror for a few moments, I thought of what just happened.

To be realistic, he was probably just thinking that I didn’t want to have sex right now with all that was going on in my life and that was sweet. But the more irrational side of me was telling me I wasn’t attractive to him anymore. So, I wanted to fix that.

Shucking off the jeans I was wearing and folding them on his nightstand, I pulled Chris’ shirt on and glanced one last time in the mirror. I looked okay, a little tired since the day had been so long, but definitely like I wanted to be fucked.

It felt weird, wanting to seduce him. We’d had sex before, it wasn’t like it was for the first time. I guess it was just another game we’d play and hopefully he’d like it. I was usually the one initiating these things and while that wasn’t all bad, it was starting to make me a bit insecure.

Making my way down to the laundry room, I saw him tossing clothes into the washer one by one. I cleared my throat to announce my arrival but Chris didn’t turn around until the end of his sentence, “So, this is a really cute bra, how come I've never seen it bef—Hey!”

I bit my lip, smiling only slightly, “What?”

“Oh no, you can’t do that,” he laughed a little breathlessly, shaking his head in disbelief. He dumped the last of the clothes in and moved on to pouring the detergent in.

“Do what?” I looked up at him, tugging down on his T-shirt.

I preened at the sound of his affected voice, “Where are you pants?”

“I think I lost them along the way,” I shrugged, fluttering my lashes.

“Don’t look at me with those eyes!” Chris said, pointing an accusing finger at me after he shut the lid of the washer.

Said eyes widened dramatically at him, “What are you talking about?”

“Your eyes basically say ‘fuck me’ every time I look at them!” he explained, shaking his head as he set the timer for forty five minutes. The perfect amount of time for what I wanted. “Like you’re begging me to fuck you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I replied as innocently as possible, perching myself on top of the dryer next to him. At this level, I was maybe an inch shorter than him and easily accessible. My voice lowered playfully, “I never beg for anything.”

A darkened expression graced his face as he breathed out, “Yeah, you do.”

I remained unphased, sending him a coy smile, “When?”

“When I’m fucking you,” he said softly, peeking at me through his eyelashes and getting close enough to me that I could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

“Well, now you’re giving me the ‘fuck me’ eyes,” I sighed, jutting out my bottom lip in what I hoped was a cute way. Then, realization came to my mind and I laughed, seduction aside, “They’re called bedroom eyes, you idiot, not ‘fuck me’ eyes!”

“Same thing,” Chris smirked, putting his hands on my knees and spreading them to stand between them. Goosebumps rose on my skin at the contact and I scooted over to the edge so I could get even closer to him. Our eyes met with a silence hanging in the air for a few moments.

I didn’t know who kissed who first, but the next thing I knew, our lips were melding together. His hands framed my face as I wrapped my legs around his waist. He broke away after a minute, mumbling, “You are way too good at this.”

“What?” I asked absently, already mouthing down his scruffy jaw.

“Seduction should not be this easy,” he whined as I nipped at his skin. “I’m trying to be a gentleman and give you some space.”

“I think I gave us enough space for a while,” I replied, pushing his shirt up enough that I could slip my hands underneath and feel his abdomen. His hands slid up from my face to carding my hair and pressing me against him.

“Jesus Christ, come on,” he said each word in between a kiss, “We gotta get up to my bed.”

I shook my head, grabbing the back of his neck for another kiss as he pulled away. “Nuh uh, let’s do it right here.”

His nose crinkled against mine as he smiled, “What kind of Cosmo magazine bullshit—?”

“Shut up, we’re both too lazy to go up those stairs or even to the couch,” I grasped his belt buckle and tugged him even closer to me. The amusement on his face went back to lust in a heartbeat. “Fuck me right here.”

“Color?” he prompted me and I rolled my eyes. In the back of my mind, I appreciated that he asked even when we did something considered completely vanilla.

“I’m the one saying to do it, maybe I should be asking you what color.”

“Sim.”

“Green. Now start fucking me.”

He didn't respond, only moving his hands down from my hair to my hips. Matching my previous urgency, he sucked on my bottom lip and rolled his hips into me. I let out a small, stuttered moan as I grasped his hair roughly.

“You aren't allowed to boss me around right now,” he whispered against my lips before taking a step back. “You’re supposed to be a good girl. My good girl, right?”

I nodded eagerly as he unbuckled his belt. Keeping my legs spread wide, I leaned back on the heels of my hands as smooth as possible. There wasn't much room on the dryer but we could work with it.

Pulling off his sweater with one hand, he rasped, “My good girl knows not to sass me when we’re doing this,” and leaned in for another rough kiss as if he knew I was thinking of being a smart ass.

“Good girls get rewards,” he continued as he ran his mouth against my neck and jaw. His fingers tugged on the sides of my underwear and I lifted my hips to help him. He set them aside somewhere but I was too busy staring at the freckles on his torso. “And you want a reward, don't you?”

Once again, I nodded. He smiled, clearly pleased, but his assertive voice cut through me when I started to take off the T-shirt I wore, “Keep it on.”

“But—”

He took hold of my hips again, digging his fingers in slightly to make me gasp. He spoke low in my ear, “I thought you wanted to be—”

“A good girl, yeah I know,” I muttered, cutting him off with a grin. He raised an eyebrow disapprovingly before slotting his lips against mine without another word. I used my legs to slip down his jeans, still leaning back to get the right angle of grinding his hard-on against me.

“You know what’d be more fun?” Chris mused innocently, but the smile on his face was far from that. Before I could even fully process his question, he lifted me up and moved me only a few feet away. Right on top of the moving washer. The vibrating washer. He grinned knowingly, “Yeah, a lot more fun now.”

“Less talking, more fucking,” I basically pleaded, feeling the vibrations beneath me and almost moaning just at the contact.

His fingers finally slipped between my thighs. Feeling the wetness and hearing my sharp inhale, he said smugly, “See what I meant about you begging?”

“You talk so much,” I mumbled, trying to coax his fingers into slipping inside me instead of just rubbing around and teasing me.

Chris eyes’ narrowed, “You do too. I’m gonna make sure you start moaning, though.”

I tsked, feeling more talkative (well I mean, during sex) than usual, “All talk, Christopher, all talk.”

He rolled his eyes, taking his hand away to which I nearly whined. Pulling his pants and underwear down to his ankles, he smirked at my sudden silence. Apart from embarrassingly heavy breathing, I made no moves or noise at all. The only other sound was the rolling around of clothes beneath me.

Taking pleasure in my paralyzation (I was assuming, because Chris could be an asshole sometimes. Not like a real asshole, just an asshole in bed who liked to tease me until I broke apart in the most delicious way), he wrapped my legs around him and rubbed his naked cock on my wetness. I whimpered, crossing my legs and linking them against his lower back as an effort to bring him even closer to me. 

“So desperate for me,” he murmured, pulling me in for a searing kiss. I gasped in agreement, feeling the tip of his dick brush against my clit. I needed Chris so deep inside me that we were basically the same person and that thought only scared me a little when it should’ve scared me a lot.

After what seemed like hours of teasing but only boiled down to a few minutes, he grasped his cock and slid in slowly. Making sure I felt every inch of him until he was fully seated in me, he groaned lightly onto my shoulder.

Knowing he waited until I adjusted to his size, I rolled my hips against him so he’d start moving. He spoke in my ear, “Talk to me, baby, tell me what you’re thinking.”

I loved when he talked dirty to me, absolutely the best thing to get me off. But me doing that? I wasn’t really great at this kind of stuff. Still, I’d try I guess. Feeling heat rush up my body, I tried to oblige to his command as best as I could, “Your… Uh, your dick feels good.”

He’d caught me off guard, okay?

Chris snickered, moving back to show me the light twinkle in his eyes. I laughed as well and we paused, enjoying the silly moment. It was surreal to be laughing together with him literally inside me and fucking me on a washer but I guess stranger things had happened to other people. 

Rocking his hips nice and slow, he smirked. “Never mind, leave the talking to me. My apologies, I thought you’d be a natural since you always ramble.”

I stuck my tongue out at him but he stuck his own out and licked mine playfully. “Rude!”

After that, I was silenced by the feeling of him inside of me. He was so deep and stretched me so nicely that I felt deliriously good.

It’d been quite a while since we’d had sex. Probably since the Gucci Guilty Valentine’s Day event. We’d also gone out to see Deadpool that day (on Valentine’s Day, don’t even get me started on Marc’s reaction when I mentioned it to him), come to think of it, and we’d only fooled around in his car afterwards. Fooling around meaning being fingered and a blowjob for him. So yeah, about three weeks ago. And fuck, did I miss the way he perfectly fit inside me.

But I wanted it to be enjoyable for him as well, so I took a breath and thought of how to talk dirty like he did. Running my nails over his shoulders and back slowly, I allowed myself to let out a shallow moan. I looked up into his glazed over eyes, knowing I looked just as fucked as he did, if not worse.

His neck was straining as he moved inside me over and over again so I mouthed at it, aiming for the two freckles on his neck. “These drive me crazy, you know.”

He raised an eyebrow, humoring me, “Do they?” I hummed in response as he lowered his lips against mine, pumping his hips extra hard to really make me feel it. “Love my clothes on you, you should wear them more often.”

“Whenever you want,” I promised, whimpering as his fingertips dug into me in the nicest way. I asked hesitantly, “Do I feel good?”

Chris only nodded, pulling out almost completely before ramming himself back in. “Always.”

“I wanna make you come,” I whispered like it was a secret, scraping my nails along his back and making him shiver. “Want you so bad, you always fit me perfectly.”

He moaned unabashedly, “I thought you were horrible at this.”

“I’m just trying to be good for you, sir,” I purred, the desperation obvious in both my voice and his thrusts. My body was moving back and forth awkwardly with the washer, but it still felt fantastic and the vibrations were probably helping both of us reach our climaxes. “I’m so close, you make me feel so good.”

He frowned with concentration, a little dip in his brow as he moved along me, “Fuck, baby.” I could tell he was close, so I reached on hand down to play with my clit and felt fireworks as soon as my fingertips brushed the sensitive nerve endings. His voice was fucking wrecked when he spoke again, “Shit, you’re so fucking hot when you come.”

I moaned to acknowledge his words, grinding myself on him shamelessly and riding through my orgasm. Following not long after me, he thrusted in jerky movements before spilling inside me.

We panted in near unison, looking at each other post-orgasm hazy eyes. Our bodies were warm, slick with sweat and boneless but Chris still pulled me closer as he murmured, “You really need to start talk more often in bed, sweetheart.”

I rolled my eyes, telling myself the flush I felt was from the sex. “We’re literally on top of a washing machine right now, Christopher.”

——————

“You’re not seriously considering moving in with him, are you?” Char smirked, her gray eyes gleaming with amusement. “We were literally just giving Marc and Scott shit for moving in together. At least they’re actually dating.”

We were sitting at my dinner table, catching up with each other with a cup of chai for me and coffee for her. I’d just mentioned what Chris had told me, offered me, and how nice it had been. I just blurted it out because I needed to talk to someone about it, I didn’t want to bury it until I exploded like I did most things. Unfortunately, it had slipped my mind that Char had always been the voice of reason.

Voice of reason was code for absolute buzzkill.

“Hey, I’ve known him for almost a year,” I defended myself, crossing my arms over my chest. It wasn’t like I was packing my bags to move in with him, but I was entertaining the idea. It would be easy and simple, at least until I got back on my feet.

She chuckled sarcastically, “How cute, do you remember the exact date?”

“I don’t, actually. It was late April, though.”

“Please tell me it was April 20th. 4/20, blaze it,” she said in monotone.

I sputtered, laughing into my mug. “Char, we haven’t smoked marijuana since college.”

“We should get a weed guy. Remember our weed guy in college? Gil?”

“I can’t believe you fucked a drug dealer named Gilbert. Even his nickname was stupid. Who the fuck goes by Gil?” I rolled my eyes, setting down onto the couch next to her.

“Listen. He gave us weed for free.”

“Okay. You got me there.”

“Back to the matter at hand,” Char sighed after we finished laughing and taking a stroll down memory lane. “So. You’re going to move in with him? How are the girls taking it?”

“One, I never said I was moving in! I said he offered. Two, the girls would probably be overjoyed. They love him.”

“And you?”

“It’d be… Easy, money-wise and shit,” I admitted, but I knew she wanted me to be more elaborate than that. I struggled with doing so but ultimately said, “But it’s complicated. Because I’m fucking him. I don’t want it all weird because I’m living with him too.”

She seemed satisfied with that answer. “Yeah, emotions getting into the mix sucks. I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that.”

“Char, you’re aromantic, not a fuckin’ robot. You still feel emotions.”

“I know, I’m just saying.” She flashed an easy grin before speaking seriously, “It sucks to have to deal with the possibility of developing romantic feelings for him. Or, maybe the possibility that they’re already there.”

“Wow, so blunt.”

“Would you rather me beat around the bush or leave that to you and Chris?”

I sucked in a breath. “Harsh.”

“I’m serious.”

“I don’t have romantic feelings for him” I clarified, keeping my voice steady and my jaw set. I didn’t! She looked at me with a signature ‘Are you joking?’ face so I spoke again, “Okay, yeah, I used to have a crush on him, obviously. But now it’s good to be friends and fuck around.”

“What about him?”

“Well, he… He has given no sign whatsoever that he has feelings for me. Which is good. Because we’re just fucking.”

“It’s interesting how you keep calling it ‘fucking’,” Char mused, a thoughtful look on her face.

“What? Too juvenile? He’s giving me a good dicking down, then.”

“Call it whatever you want,” She rolled her eyes. “Call it fucking, a dicking down, or a goddamn casual screw. Whatever it is, whatever you call it — it’s more important than you let on. It’s not just some roll in the sack, Sim, it’s not just some fun.”

I snorted, not letting her words get to me. “What else could it be other than some fun?”

“You know what. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

I glowered at her. “Enough with the lectures, Char. I didn’t ask.”

Char had this look that she’d give me when she wasn’t buying my shit. Her face went carefully blank and she didn’t blink as she spoke calmly, “Okay. But don’t call me crying when you finally admit it to yourself.”

“I won’t,” I promised, slumping into my chair.

That was a boldfaced lie. We both knew I would do exactly that.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

“I’m serious, if it’s too much trouble then we can stay at a hotel till I find a place.”

“Okay, honestly?” Chris grunted as he set down a box marked ‘DVDs’ down next to the (his, or actually, our) front door. “I’m  _ literally _ moving your stuff in and you’re still acting like I don’t want you guys here.”

“But I really, really don’t want us to impose — ”

“C’mon, Sim, I’d tell you if you were.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s a lie.”

Chris just grinned pleasantly as he turned to get another box. He looked absolutely thrilled, with his eyes alight and his body constantly bouncing around excitedly. I think it helped him, having people around. He’d already sent the girls upstairs to their new rooms and told them come down for lunch soon. 

When he came back and set two more boxes on the floor, he looked at me expectantly, “You gonna help at any point?”

“I don’t know, I think I’ll leave the heavy lifting to you, Captain America,” I teased, setting myself down on his  — or  _ our _ ?  — couch. Chris snorted, putting his hands on his hips and eyeing me. When he saw that I wasn't moving from my spot, he heaved a sigh and planted himself right next to me carelessly. 

“In that case, I’ll be taking my break.” After a few seconds of companionable silence, he turned to me with a huge grin on his face, “Speaking of  _ superheroes _ , how’d that audition with Marvel go?”

My mouth twisted into a grimace. I hated auditions with a fiery passion and this one had been important, with fucking Marvel for God’s sake! These things usually left a bad taste in my mouth but this one had seemed especially not good. And by not good, I mean bad. Like pretty fucking bad. I kept tripping over words and I couldn’t even get my points across the way I wanted to. It was like I’d been stuck in a nightmare.

“It went… Alright,” I paused, biting my lip to think over the next words I would say. “I won’t be surprised if they give it to someone else though. Maybe someone younger, even.”

Chris scoffed. “You look plenty young. Besides, it’s probably the nerves talking. You’re an amazing actress.” I shrugged at the compliment, feeling myself get swallowed up by insecurity. He noticed, and come to think of it, when didn’t he notice my hesitation and nervousness? “Now, wait a fucking minute, I’ve seen you audition up close. You've acted with  _ me _ , personally. It was a while ago but I know it was some intense, raw goddamn talent.”

“Stop it,” I hid my hands behind my face, feeling my skin heat up under my fingertips. I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. There was a few moments of silence before I felt the need to change the subject. Clearing my throat, I mumbled, “ _ Anyway _ . Do you wanna go to the hospital tomorrow? See my mom, get that over with?”

“What?” he asked, shocked at the sudden subject change. I said nothing in reply, so he started sputtering, “Stop deflecting!”

“Stop calling me out on my shit and answer!” I laughed lightly, moving my hands from my face to peek at him. He was obviously waiting for my elaboration so I sighed and said, “My mom wants to meet you.”

“Wait, really?” Chris’ eyebrows raised to his hairline and he turned to look at me fully. “How does —  What does she —  She  _ knows _ about me?”

I hesitated for a moment before sighing, “Archie and Maya. They talk about you a lot.”

He smiled with surprised delight and it filled my heart with so much joy for no reason. Fucking asshole with his crinkly eyes and smile lines. 

“Those girls are the sweetest,” he said softly, glancing back up the stairs. “And you’re the coolest person ever… for raising them.”

“I never raised them,” I disagreed. “I’ve taken care of them for two, maybe two and a half years. That's not raising them.”

“Yeah it is,” he replied firmly as his hand rested on my thigh and squeezed it. 

I bit my lip and looked away. “Uh, I know I've said this like a billion times but. Thanks. You really didn't have to do this.”

I didn't have to say “this” specifically because Chris knew I was talking about everything. I mean, especially about us living there with him, but everything else. About his support and his offer for me to be here and all of his help. 

“I know I didn't,” he half smiled. “But it'll be fun. Like a sleepover everyday.”

“Yeah riiight, fun,” I scoffed. “Taking care of a teenager and elementary schooler is not fun.”

“They like me!”

“Yeah, but you're going to be the fun parent with movies and candies and no bed time while I'm the one who disciplines them and makes them hate life.” 

Right as those words came out of my mouth, I regretted them. Likening Chris and I to parents would probably make things even more awkward than they already were. I knew I needed to tread lightly around him, despite how cool he seemed with all this. I didn't want to overstep boundaries or make it too much for him. And comparing us to parents was making it weird. Really weird. I was a fucking idiot. 

Surprisingly, he just threw his head back and laughed easily. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Before I could reply, Archie’s scream echoed throughout the house. Chris and I made quick eye contact before getting up as swiftly as possible. Basically tripping over each other to get up the stairs and through the hallway, we finally found the bedroom that Archie’s scream came from. 

Chris bolted through the door first, panting and coming into the middle of the room, “Are you guys okay?!”

“What happened?” I exclaimed as I ran in and stood next to Chris, looking around to find the danger. “Arch, why the  _ fuck _ did you scream!”

Both girls were standing on top of the queen sized bed, Maya gripping onto Archie’s waist as their eyes stayed trained on one corner of the room. 

Weakly, Maya pointed in the general direction they couldn't take their eyes off of. “There… It's there!”

“Oh god, I think I see it!” Archie squealed, clutching onto Maya. 

I peaked around, trying to catch sight of whatever the girls were going on about when Chris made a sound that could only be described as a squeak if it hadn't been coming from someone as huge as him. With lightning speed, he got himself on top of the bed next to the girls and made the sound again. 

“Holy shit, that spider is huge!” He grabbed onto the girls but I wasn't sure if he was trying to protect them or use them as shields. 

“Spider?” I asked, furrowing my brows. “Where? I'll kill it, you big babies.”

Chris yelled, “You can't kill it! Isn't it karma that you'll end up being a spider in your next life?!”

  
“What kind of bullshit are you reading?” I rolled my eyes, giving him an unimpressed look. He looked comically out of place, standing on the bed with the girls with his head nearly touching the ceiling. 

He grunted indignantly and Archie cried out, “Sorry Chris, I can't live here if that thing’s gonna end up being my roommate!”

“You and me both, Arch, this is it. We’re all moving out,” he mustered a reply as seriously as he could. 

I smirked as I spotted it. Just a common house spider. Leaving the room, I called back, “I'll take care of it, bitches.”

“Sim, you can't leave us in here all defenseless!” Chris said as I hopped down the stairs. 

“Yeah, you're our spider protector!” Maya shouted in a high voice, right as I walked into the kitchen. I laughed as I grabbed a plastic cup from pantry and ran back up the stairs. 

It took me, at most, a minute between leaving the room and coming back but somehow, the sight before me made it seem like I'd been gone a lot longer. Maya had found her way onto Chris’ back like a monkey as Archie wrapped her arms around his waist with an iron grip. 

Easily catching the spider despite their shrieks to “Be careful!” and “Watch out!”, I returned from letting it outside. Chris got down from the bed first, carefully looking around probably for more spiders. After he assured the girls there were no other creepy things crawling on the floor, they came off the bed with sighs of relief. 

“That was terrifying,” Archie said, shaking her head.

“Scariest thing that's ever happened to me in my entire life,” Maya agreed solemnly. 

Chris clapped his hands together and rubbed them excitedly. “I think we can skip lunch and just go right to ice cream after the afternoon we've had. Right, girls?” 

I snorted. “You guys are idiots.”

After an ice cream break, I actually started helping Chris and made the girls work as well. We put majority of the things away, setting up both Archie and Maya’s rooms completely and finishing up most of mine. I didn't dare put all my posters on the walls because that was fucking awkward. But other than that, most of it was done. 

While I had been worried that I'd dumped myself and my sisters onto him, Chris had never seemed more happy. At first I thought it was a front because we were around him, but after a full eight hours of moving in, I decided it had to be genuine. He was an actor, but he wasn't  _ that _ fucking great of one. Not enough to fake being happy for this long continuously. 

We ordered pizza, that I stubbornly paid for, because Chris only had beer, Muscle Milk and luckily leftover cranberry juice in his fridge. Not to mention all that was in his pantry was the protein shake powder and stale bread. He'd sheepishly admitted that he needed to do some grocery shopping. It was pretty fucking cute. 

We’d all sat down on the couch, deciding what movie to watch. Since Chris was quite the Disney snob, it took a while. See, the problem was that I wanted to watch Enchanted while he wanted Cinderella. 

“Cinderella?! Really, Chris? She's boring as fuck.”

He had the audacity to look  _ offended _ . “She is not! This is a classic.”

“Yeah, a classic piece of shit.”

“Do not!” He audibly gasped, leaning back to get a better look at my face. “That's… Fuckin’ blasphemy or some shit.”

Archie snickered from the other end of the couch, “You like Cinderella, Sim.”

“I do,” I said. “I just like fucking with him.”

“Okay, how about we watch Bambi instead?” Maya asked, situated between me and Archie. “Sim’s never let me see it.”

“No!” Chris and I both shook our heads quickly. I did not want to deal with a sad, crying Maya tonight. She'd never get past the first ten minutes of the movie. 

“How about we vote?” Archie shrugged. 

Chris took this time to be a kiss ass. “That's so smart. Good idea, Arch.”

I smacked his arm and then said, “Alright, so, who wants to watch Enchanted?”

Everyone but Chris raised their hand and I grinned victoriously. He glared at the currently blank TV screen, “Fine, but we're watching Cinderella next time.”

Finally, around ten o'clock at night, the girls went to get ready for bed in their new rooms, excited to see mom tomorrow. At that thought, my stomach clenched uncomfortably and I started cleaning up the table to distract myself.

“Hey, hey. I can do this myself, you know,” Chris stopped me, giving me a gentle smile. “Stop trying to clean up.”

“This is the least I can do,” I said insistently as I pushed passed him, taking the flattened pizza boxes with me. 

“Sim, just don't,” he begged, following me into the kitchen. I shot him a confused look over my shoulder, so he continued, “Don't act like you need to repay me,  _ please _ . I need this as much as you do.”

“Can you at least stop acting like it's not weird?” I grumbled, setting the boxes down on the kitchen island Chris and I fucked on that one time. “It's fuckin’ weird.”

“It's a little weird,” he conceded. “But, I like it. It’s cool.”

“Yeah, cool. Just a couple of bros living together,” I smirked sarcastically, leaning my hip against the counter. “Nothing strange there.”

“You're making it extra strange.”

“I’m not trying to!”

“Okay. Well, get the fuck over it,” Chris laughed, pecking me on the forehead and making a quick grab for the pizza boxes. “I’ll go throw these out for ya.”

“I could've done it,” I protested as he started to walk away. 

He glanced back with a spark in his eye and a lopsided grin. “Hey. Why don't you go to my room and wait for me there?”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I cleared my throat, wanting clarification. “For, uh, for sex?”

Chris rolled his eyes with a smile, obviously exasperated. “Yes, for fuckin’  _ that _ .”

I started making my way out of the kitchen the moment ‘Yes’ came out of his mouth. 

It took him a while to get to his room but the minute he stepped foot inside, I locked the door and started pushing him onto the bed, his legs dangling on the edge so I could slide down between them later. I climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and pressing myself right against his dick. Instead of saying anything, he just threaded his fingers into my hair and pulled me down for a heated kiss. 

“Gotta be quiet,” he murmured against my lips.

“Like that's a problem for me.”

“It’s gonna be with the way I fuck you this time.”

“We’ll see.”

“Shut up.” 

“You're really giving me mixed signals here,” I teased. Chris stiffened underneath me, his eyes searching mine. I giggled at his expression, “First you tell me to be quiet, but then you say you're going to make sure I make some noise and then again, you're telling me to shut up.”

He rolled his eyes then, choosing not to respond but instead close the barely there space between our lips again.

I pitched my hips back and forth, letting myself rub on him and feeling him harden underneath me. He groaned at the rough contact, groaned for  _ me _ . It was always a nice thought, to know he was making sweet noises under me from something as small as rutting against him. 

Dragging my lips down from his, I made a stop at his throat and decided to leave some marks. At first, I kissed chastely along the column of his throat, but then I transitioned to open mouth kisses and then just straight onto borderline painful hickeys. A particularly obscene one was on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. The whole time I was making that one, he was writhing under me and whispering my name with reverence. It felt amazing to be the one to do that. 

“Jesus, is this you taking charge?” he breathed out a chuckle when I finally removed my lips from his throat. 

“Not quite,” I snorted, giving his ear a flirty nip before resuming my trek down. Quickly, I unbuttoned his pants and pulled them, along with his boxer briefs, down his thighs. 

I made him sit up as I kneeled between his legs. Taking hold of the base of his dick, I pressed a small kiss to it and looked up at him with a teasing smile. He leaned back his elbows and laughed slightly.  

“Didn't know you'd be getting straight to the point--Ah,” Chris gasped as I sucked the tip of his cock into the wet heat of my mouth. Long fingers threaded through my hair as he whispered, “S-So good.”

I swallowed him down as best I could, not really caring as much about technique at the moment. He moved his hips up hesitantly but then I popped him out of my mouth to let him know, “Just. Fuck my face, yeah?”

Chris looked like I’d just told him we were going to Disney World so, I took that as a yes. 

He moaned quietly, “Oh God, baby, you're as pretty as a picture.”

I didn't respond to the compliment, closing my eyes and licking along the underside of his dick. With my hands on the outside of his thighs, I took him back into my mouth and glanced up at him through my eyelashes. 

“Oh fucking  _ fuck _ ,” he basically whimpered when my nose neared the dark brown curls at the base of his cock. His hands hadn't made their way into my hair yet and I was confused. I pulled off of him once more and raised an eyebrow. 

He gulped and said sheepishly, “If I face fuck you, I'm gonna come and I don't wanna do that without you coming too.”

I rolled my eyes. “Such a gentleman.”

“I wasn’t always. You would've kicked 24 year old me’s ass.”

“I’m not with 24 year old you, I'm with 34 year old you who's gonna fuck my face, come in my mouth, and like it.”

It was hilarious that I’d needed to somewhat sell him on this. Admittedly I found it endearing that he cared. But my knees were getting tired and I wanted him back in my mouth already, singing praises about me. 

He licked his lips, his pupils blown up dramatically. “Yeah, okay, fuck, you really need to start talking in bed more.” 

Finally, I wrapped my lips around his hot tip again and moaned when his hands weaved into my hair. He tugged me down lower, gently and with care. 

He found a rhythm soon, pushing my head down as he thrust his hips up in perfect harmony. Gathering my hair into a makeshift ponytail, he groaned when I let him take control completely.  

“ _ Just _ like that,” he panted even though  _ he _ was the one doing it like that, his breath coming out in short little puffs. “Ooh, Godfuckingdamn, Sim.”

On the down side, my throat was starting to feel the affects of his thrusting and my chin was wet from all the dripping saliva, so that was uncomfortable. But, on the upside. If I could’ve smiled around his dick, I would've because he seemed so out of breath and I couldn't remember the last time I felt this proud at a sexual experience. Maybe the first time I gave him a blowjob ever? 

And soon enough, he started stammering, red-faced and all, “Oh my god, oh, you're such a good girl. Christ, baby, gonna come. Your perfect fucking _mouth_.” 

With the last word and a final grunt, he finished into my mouth, letting the hot liquid of his come hit my tongue and the back of my throat. I took it all in stride and released him from my mouth a minute later, letting him catch his breath. After he tucked himself back into his jeans, he pulled me up and tried to kiss me. 

“I just swallowed your come,” I protested, covering my mouth with a slight giggle. 

He cocked an eyebrow. “Like that's stopped either of us before?”

“Okay, true,” I laughed, pressing his warm lips to mine. It was quiet for a nice moment until it wasn't, because that's what happened when you lived with kids. They ruined nice moments.

“Chris! Are you in there?” Maya’s trembling voice rang out, clear as day despite being behind the locked door. “I can’t find Sim and I’m scared!”

We both froze in place. 

“Fuck,” he hissed quietly, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing. He cleared his throat and called out, “Maya, hold on just a minute, sweetheart.”

I hopped off of him to look for a place to hide. Glancing back at the door, I whispered, “She’s going to want to come in, she only wakes up in the middle of the night if she’s had a nightmare.”

“Are you okay? I’m scared,” Maya repeated, more insistently this time as she knocked on the door again. “Can I come in? Where’s Sim? I had a nightmare about the evil stepmother.”

Then, because there wasn't logical thing to do, Chris and I had a whisper-argument. 

“Evil stepmother,” Chris shot the words back at me, looking half amused and half annoyed. “This is your fault! If we watched Cinderella, she would've been fine.”

“There's an evil stepmother in that one too, you idiot!”

“Not  _ as _ scary!”

“Shut up and help me find a place to hide,” I grumbled. “Is there room underneath your bed?”

He looked at me with exasperation. “I have a bathroom, you know.”

“Oh. That's a better idea. I have to pee anyway.”

“You can't pee, she's going to hear you!”

“Get her out of here, so I can pee!”

He ran his hand over his face and then motioned for me to go. I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door quietly, locking it as I heard Chris open his door. I pressed my ear against the wood to make the eavesdropping easier. 

Chris spoke first. “Hey kiddo, what's wrong? You had a nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Maya replied. I heard sniffling, so she'd been crying. I felt a little bad for choosing Enchanted. Even though it wasn't fucking scary… And Patrick Dempsey was hot. 

“I’m so sorry that Sim was being a big meanie-head and chose that stupid movie.” Chris was jabbing at me like an jerkface and I bit back a scoff. He wasn't calling me a meanie-head when his dick was down my throat. 

“I chose it too,” she admitted because she was always truthful. At least, truthful enough for a six year old. 

“That's okay, sweetie. Are you okay?”

“No,” Maya said simply and I nearly snorted. She wasn't going to leave that easy. Or at all, for that matter. “Do you know where Sim is?”

“Ah, no. No, I do not. Where could she have gone? Should we go look for her? Maybe she's hiding from us?”

I winced. Chris was really bad under pressure. And bad at lying to children. He was gonna be such a pushover as a dad. 

“Sure! Maybe she's in the kitchen. Making me a hot chocolate or something.”

Now Maya was just hinting at what she wanted and I rolled my eyes. She had Chris wrapped around her finger so he'd probably go down there and make her some. 

“I don't know if she's doing  _ that _ .” 

No, she's fucking hiding in a goddamn bathroom with a sore jaw because she really went hard on that dick sucking. 

“Well, you could be doing that! Because I want some.”

I heard Chris sigh. “Okay, alright, let's go.”

“Can you pick me up?”

“Yeah, kiddo, come on.”

I waited for the sound of footsteps and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I guessed I should meet them down there, act like I'd been… somewhere. I needed to pull an excuse out of my ass fast. 

First, though, I peed and made sure I looked normal. Then I padded down the stairs as quietly as possible to see the two in the kitchen sans hot chocolate. Maya had a cup of water at the dinner table and Chris was leaning against the counter, facing her with his back to me. 

Maya brightened her smile when she saw me in the archway. “Hi Sim!”

Chris turned around and grinned. “Hey Sim. Long time, no see.”

“Uh huh. So, what are you guys doing in here?” I asked, despite already knowing. 

Maya sat back with a pout, ignoring my question. “Where were you? I was looking for you!”

“I’m sorry baby girl, I went out for a bit.”

“To the store?” she asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion. “Because Chris doesn't have stuff for hot chocolate and I want some.”

“Ye-No,” I caught myself from going along with that because Maya was curious and would probably want to see what I bought. “I just went for a walk.”

I did that sometimes. Rarely. But sometimes. 

“Oh, okay,” she nodded, taking in my answer. “So, no hot chocolate?”

Chris interjected. “No, but how about tomorrow after the hospital, we go to the store and do some grocery shopping?”

“Okay!” Maya smiled at him excitedly before yawning. “Well, I'm sleepy. Can I sleep in your bed with you, Chris?”

“Uh.” He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to answer. 

“Sweetie, you don't wanna sleep in your own bed?” I asked, coming to her side and rubbing her small back. 

“Not tonight, I'm scared. I had a nightmare,” she explained, jutting out her bottom lip. 

“Okay, you can sleep in my room,” I offered and she shook her head insistently. I couldn't inconvenience him like this all the time. The man needed a break. Apparently, though, he didn't think so. 

“You both can sleep in my bed, there's plenty of room,” Chris said, smiling warmly at Maya. “Come on, let's all sleep. It's been a long day and we have a lot to do tomorrow, too.”

It was a horrible reminder of what was going to happen tomorrow but I ignored it because he meant well and that was all that mattered. 

We got back into his room soon after and Maya settled into Chris’ bed as we both changed into pajamas. 

“Sim, you should be in the middle. You look more scared than I am,” Maya observed innocently.

I glanced at Chris hesitantly across the room and he sent me a reassuring smile. I didn't know if he knew I was being hesitant because I didn't want to annoy him, but it was comforting to see him smile at me anyway. 

With the exchange going over her head, she continued. “Isn't it funny how Archie could fit on this bed too?”

“She probably could,” Chris agreed, shifting the weight of the bed as he climbed on. 

“That'd be cool. Let's invite her next time, so we can all sleep in the bed like a big, happy family!”

I stiffened at Maya’s words but Chris just grinned openly, with his eyes crinkling and tiny dimple showing. I fucking hated him, he always looked like a goddamn angel. 

“Come on, I'm gonna fall asleep!” Maya rushed, pulling on my hand to get into bed. 

After her insistence, I settled myself into his bed. Right in the middle, between Chris’ large body and my sister’s tiny one. I didn't have time to laugh at the weird situations I always found myself in because I didn't have enough energy, so I just fell asleep instead.

——————

I'd been dreading the next day, even if I was the one to suggest it. The girls had met my dad at the front desk while I parked the car with Chris. However, instead of going inside directly after, I veered off course and sat at a nice concrete bench in front of a fountain near the sliding doors. He'd followed me, quietly settling down next to me, and giving me a strange look when I pulled out my phone to distract myself further. 

He granted me a few minutes, for which I was grateful, as he absently inspected the flowers he'd brought my mother. However, he could only wait for so long. 

“Your mom’s in there,” Chris nodded his head towards the building finally, raising his eyebrows at me. “What's so important on that phone of yours?”

I scrunched up my face, holding the screen up to him, “I'm reading this article about a black hole collision that changed the way we know physics. It's quite interesting, I think.”

“Hang on, no way! Let me see!” He paused for a moment, looking stunned at what he saw. Sitting down next to me on the bench, he angled the device toward himself and skimmed through the words. “This is fuckin’ wild. Science is so weird like--Okay, wait.”

The amused smile on my face dropped as he sighed and handed back the phone. “Sim, you need to go see your mom. She's probably asking for you.” 

“I know.”

“And I'm really not gonna meet her for the first time _without_ _you_.”

“You brought her flowers,” I nudged the arm holding the pink petunias. “She'll like you just fine.”

“I'm white,” he replied plainly and I laughed.

“That's not new. She knows that.”

Chris looked tense, like he needed a laugh. I wasn't very good at helping, I always fucked up when people needed comfort or help. But I guess I would try. For him. 

“She kept getting your name wrong, when Archie brought you up. But I think she just did it to bug me,” I admitted with a shrug. 

“My name? What'd she call me?”

“Christian. And Craig.”

We laughed together, but then after a pause, panic set on his face. “Oh god, wait, I don't even know her name! Fuck!”

“Hey, no, it's fine,” I was already fucking up this comfort thing because I really didn't know how to help make sure he didn't freak out. 

He continued, “What if I pronounce it all fucked up or something? Am I even allowed to say an elder’s name? Holy shit.”

“Oh no, yeah, you can say it--” I made it worse, of course. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

He started shaking, it was very slight but still obvious to me. “I feel like I'm gonna end up saying some bullshit. I just… I don't know what's expected of me and I really don't want to let anyone down! Especially not the girls or you.”

“Sweetheart, take a deep breath,” I instructed, facing him and cupping his jaw with both hands. I needed to fix this and calm both of us down. “In and out, come on. Slowly.”

Chris did as I said, inhaling and exhaling while staring into my eyes. I rubbed my thumb along the rough of his beard and waited for the trembling to stop. When he looked like he'd calmed down a bit, I answered his questions, “Okay, her name is Durga. Say it with me.”

We both said it at the same time and I smiled reassuringly, “Good, you can call her that when she introduces herself. Oh, and don't call me Sim in front of her. She's obsessed with people saying my full name. Says she gave it to me for a reason.”

“Okay,” he nodded slightly in my hands, looking a little less frazzled than before. 

I bit my lip, knowing how my mother nitpicked things. I only hoped she’d wait till he left to start with the comments. Then again, maybe I needed to give her the benefit of the doubt. She'd gotten nicer, less picky about things. 

Chris took note of my silence and raised an eyebrow, “Tell me I pronounce your name correctly.”

I cleared my throat and removed my hands from him. “I mean, you do. It's just gonna sound weird to her, is all.”

“You mean it's gonna sound white,” he concluded, slumping miserably against the seat. “Any other pet peeves your parents have that I should know about?”

“No. I don't even know why you're so worried about your first impression,” I shook my head, biting the skin of my bottom lip. “She's eager to meet you. You're probably keeping her waiting.”

“Because I'm out here waiting for  _ you _ ,” he reminded himself of the actual purpose of why we were out here on this bench outside the hospital. “Yeah, you. C’mon, let's go in.”

“Fine,” I heaved a sigh, trying to contain the jittery as fuck emotions I was feeling. 

I'd seen her maybe a dozen times (of those visits, Marc showed up to half and Char came twice) since she’d been placed at this hospital but it felt horrible every time. It certainly didn't get easier to watch her dying in this stupid hospital. She  _ was _ dying, that was for sure. The doctors were now only trying to make things comfortable for her.

Seeing my mother on her literal death bed made my chest hurt. 

But still. I was here. With Chris and Archie and Maya. And they all wanted to see my mom. I wanted to see her too. So, I stood up and said, “Come on, Christopher, don't want to keep her waiting now, do you?”

He opened his mouth to protest, then promptly closed it, shaking his head at me fondly as he stood up to follow me in. 

Now, I was the shaky one as we made our way into the lobby of the hospital. Chris gripped my hand, squeezing it once, and kissing my temple quickly. I felt my face heat up at the gesture. 

“Let go of my hand before we get to the room.”

“I know, I'm not that dumb,” he flashed a self-deprecating grin my way as we stepped onto the elevator with a distracted person on the phone. When the elevator doors closed, I tugged his hand down to bring him face to face with me. “What?”

I pressed a kiss to his cheek and my lips twitched into a smile. “Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“This. Letting me live with you. Helping me constantly. Everything, I guess.” I finally voiced what I wanted to say yesterday and his face broke out in the most sincerely pleasant smile. 

He laughed lightly and nodded, giving me a responding kiss on the cheek. “Thank you too, for what you did outside. You helped me.”

It was light moment, a minute of brief happiness that made me feel like things were all alright. And of course, the minute I walked into the hospital room, the happiness was gone. 

When we got into the room, my mom was sitting up on the hospital bed, reading a book. Thankfully my father wasn't there, at least for the time being. Neither were Archie and Maya, so I assumed they went to eat at the hospital cafeteria. 

I cleared my throat to get her attention, as she hadn't looked up from the book. She was reading Siddartha for Christ’s sake. “Hey mom, this is Chris.”

“ _ Chris _ , hello,” she gave her best charming smile as she set the book down and I rolled my eyes openly. “My name is Durga, Simran’s mother.”

“Hi, hey, I'm Sim-Simran’s friend,” Chris got through the sentence with minimal stuttering, so that was a plus. Downside was that he was already turning pink. 

“Very nice, come here,” my mother patted the empty spot on her bed, right at her side. “Sit right here, I would like to get a good look at you.”

He snickered but obliged as he spoke, smiling in a way that was both disarming and adorable. “I, uhm, brought flowers.” He waved said flowers lightly in his hand before setting them down at the counter next to the bed.

“Pink petunias,” my mom mused. “Good thing Simran told you. I'm quite particular about what I like and don't like.”

“I am, too,” he grinned and my mother matched it. 

Oh no. 

“And do you like Simran?”

“ _ Ma _ , oh my god, stop,” I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face. “I told you it's not like that.”

She looked at Chris like she was figuring out a puzzle. “You said he wasn't like Marc.”

“He's not!”

“I’m not. I'm not gay, if that's what you mean?” Chris looked equally confused, shooting glances between me and my mother. 

“Well then, what's wrong? He was the one you were rolling around with for those shameless commercials, yes?”

Chris blushed, his cheeks tinted pink as he smiled slightly. “Wait, what?”

“You were both naked,” she clarified oh so helpfully. Then she reached over and squeezed his bicep. “Very nice arms you have there.”

Oh my god, I wanted the earth the swallow me up. And Chris looked as embarrassed as I felt. 

“That was Gucci Guilty, and it was an advertising job,” I grumbled. “You're making both Chris and me uncomfortable.”

“Well, anyway,” my mother continued like she hadn't heard me. “I have heard so much about you from Archana and Maya. My Simran doesn't like to give detail. She is more shy.”

Both of them turned to me and I stammered out a reply. “Oh, well, that's just- I’m just not. You know, uh.”  _ If _ you could call it a reply. 

“A beard is very manly,” my mother observed, reaching her hand out to Chris’ face. He moved closer and let her run her fingers over his face. Then, like she did with everyone, she pinched his cheeks and giggled. “So cute.”

“Thank you?” Chris seemed more amused than embarrassed now but I still wanted to be struck by lightning.

“Do you think Simran is cute?” 

“Oh my god,  _ mom _ .”

“It's a simple question!” she defended, acting innocent before training her eyes back on Chris. “Hm, well? Do you?”

“Of course,” he grinned easily in reply. “Your daughter is adorable.”

She seemed satisfied with the reply and asked, “Do you read?” gesturing to the set down book on the counter.

Chris relaxed even more. “Actually, yes, I really liked Siddartha.”

“Impressive,” my mom murmured. “You're a smart man. Spiritual. Strong.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Mom, are you done?” 

“He's better than the men your aunties have sent me, that's for sure.”

“Oh my god, not that again,” I grumbled. 

“Yes, that again. I’d like my daughter safe,” my mother sighed, eying Chris again. “And you'd keep her safe.”

“Yes, I would,” he nodded eagerly, despite not knowing my mother was talking about fucking marriage. 

I wanted to be hit by a truck because this was more embarrassing than I thought it would be. I was ready for sadness, not humiliation by my mother. “Can we not?”

“Can we not what?” Maya asked as she walked into the room, Archie and my dad following. Just fucking great. I fucking hated my life. 

“Can we not talk about this?” I squeaked out as Chris stood up, embracing both Archie and Maya at the same time. 

Archie’s teasing voice was muffled by his shoulder. “Talk about what?” 

My mother laughed lightly as I grit my teeth in frustration, “ _ Archie, shut the fuck up _ .”

“Simran,” my father snapped as Chris let go of the girls and we all looked over at him. “Do not tell her to shut up.”

“Sorry,” I said with little remorse. “This is, um, this is Chris. You guys kinda met before.”

The room was silent for a moment as Archie and Maya sat down near the hospital bed. I stood up, wringing my hands and biting my lip and showing everyone exactly how nervous I was like an idiot. 

“Hello Mr. Grover, it's nice to meet you,” Chris said in a stiff tone, knowing even from the little information I told him that my relationship with my father was strained. He extended his hand. “I just wish it was under different circumst-”

My dad scowled at his hand. “Nice, hmm? My wife is sick. In a hospital bed. And you are saying it's nice. These conditions are not  _ nice _ .”

Chris swallowed, looking at the tile floor instead of at my father, who just loved to be a fucking asshole. “Well, I just meant…”

“Dad, stop. You know what he meant.” I rolled my eyes, trying to not feel the embarrassment at my dad’s antics. “Chris, go sit.”

Maya moved from her seat, letting Chris sit down and then placing herself on the hospital bed at my mother’s feet. I hoped that he could feel more comfortable away from my dad because I had a feeling a fight was going to break out. I guess it was about time for him to see how fucked up my family life was. 

My dad turned to me and glared heatedly. “You stop, Simran.  _ You _ stop! You brought this man here, he doesn't even belong here.”

“Mohinder, please. I told Simran to bring him here,” my mom interjected tiredly. “Do not make a scene, I want to talk more with him.”

“Why? He is the very reason our daughter has gone astray.”

“Whoa whoa  _ whoa _ , he is not the reason. I went into acting because I wanted to, not because of some random guy,” I argued before turning back to Chris. “No offense.”

He just shrugged, giving me a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. 

“I am not saying it was because of this particular man. But you threw away everything we worked for, everything we have done for you,” my father started pacing in the small hospital room, leaving little room for me. “You have no regard for what I sacrificed-”

“Oh my god, just stop,” I sighed, feeling my face burn with anger and embarrassment and all the horrible feelings no one wanted to feel. “You are so out of line. Chris is a good friend and mom wanted to meet him, just like she met with Marc and Char.”

“Marc and Charlotte,” he scoffed. “They are friends, yes, but this man? He's no friend. Archana spoke about how often you spend time together. Right, Archana?”

“Well, yeah, he, uh, helps out and stuff,” she looked like a deer caught in headlights before averting her eyes to her phone. 

“Helps out and stuff?” my father sneered, throwing the words back at me. “Didn't he spend the night at your apartment? The apartment  _ I _ paid for?”

Out of the corner of my eye, Chris was gritting his teeth and I knew he was holding back comments. I was thankful that he hadn't said anything yet. 

“I don't care, you're not paying for where I'm staying right now.”

“Yes, because you are living with him. Do not even get me started, Simran, on living with a man without marrying him.”

“It's not like that!” I protested, my voice going higher at the end of the sentence. 

“That is worse! No intention of marrying him and still living with him!”

“Can we stop talking about him like he's not in the room?!” I exclaimed as loud as I could without getting a hospital employee to come in and kick us out. 

“I am not stupid, Simran,” my father rolled his eyes, a permanent frown on his face. “This man, I see what he wants. He holds you like a lover, not as a friend.”

“You don't even-- That's so weird, God,” I groaned, rubbing my hands over my face. 

“I was there, remember?” he looked pointedly at Chris this time and I really,  _ really _ regretted having him come here. “I saw how you touched my daughter. You couldn't keep your eyes off of her.”

I let out a breath, putting my hands on my hips. My mother seemed much more outspoken than before so I looked at her, pleadingly. “ _ Mom _ , please say something.”

“Mohinder, that is enough,” my mother shook her head, placing her weak hand on top of Chris’. “He is a good boy. I like him.” Then she turned her encouraging smile to Chris. 

Chris opened his mouth to speak when my father scoffed and cut him off. “Oh, Durga, please. He spends too much time with the girls. Tell me,  _ Chris _ , you're a grown man. A famous actor. Yet, you are here trying to play daddy to my kids. What makes you think you can play house with my daughters?”

“Dad,  _ please _ \--”

“You know what? I wouldn't have to be their dad if you were around,” Chris snapped, gently removing his hand from my mother’s and standing up.

I closed my eyes and bit my lip, knowing this was so bad and it was only going to get worse. 

My dad puffed out his chest, gearing for a fight. “Excuse me?”

“They live in my house now and if you hadn't left your daughter to raise your damn kids, I wouldn't have to play daddy,” Chris repeated without mercy, moving closer to both me and my father. 

“I don't even know your intentions with my young daughter. Preying on her, making her dependent on you. How old are you? Surely more than ten years older than her—”

My mother laughed loudly before starting to cough, “Mohi, oh my goodness. You are fifteen years older than me. We got married when I was nineteen.”

“Durga, that is different,” my dad softened slightly as he looked back at her. Then his eyes hardened again, “I do not trust him to take care of my daughters.”

“I don't trust you to take care of these girls, either,” Chris shot back. I’d never seen him so angry, so tightly wound and frustrated. “You left them once, who says you won't do it again?”

“Who says you know anything about our family?” my dad growled. “You are a stranger, no one important.”

“Maybe,” Chris shrugged, a hard look on his face. “But you’re a stranger to your daughters.”

“Dad, Chris, let's just be done here. That's enough,” I interrupted, finally gathering the nerves to speak up again. I bet I looked like I was about to cry, because I was.

My father’s face was red with rage as he looked at Chris, ignoring my words. “And God only knows what you're doing with  _ my _ daughter in that house now,  _ you _ having the audacity to touch her like you did right in front of me.”   
  
“All due respect, Mr. Grover,” Chris snarled. “But you fail to realize your daughter is her own damn  _ person _ . And I'll touch her any way she fucking wants me to.”

Oh, fucking hell. 

On one hand, I felt an insane amount of pride from Chris defending me. Yes, of course I could defend myself as I'd done a thousand times. But to have someone else, someone I respected so much, defend me was exhilarating. He was defending me against a man who made me who I was today. A man who probably had his reasons to be the way that he was but it didn't excuse his actions. While there were times I was proud of who I was, the means of how I got to be this way were less than desirable. So, yes, it was nice to see someone stand up for me. 

On the other hand, however, that the worst thing to say to my brown parents. I wasn't really considered my own person. Especially as a girl. And my father, who controlled everything about me ever since I was a child, would not take this lightly. So. Fuck. Holy fuck. 

There was silence and then, my dad spoke in a terrifying calm voice. “Leave this very instant.”

“Mohi, no,” my mother disagreed, sitting up more but groaning at the strain. My father rushed to her side, helping her. She batted his hands away, “You are making everything so much worse.”

“Durga-”

“Stop being a fool,” my mother said sternly before looking over at me with a quiet sadness. “Why don't you all go home? It's been a long morning.”

“I guess… Yeah, I think that's a good idea,” I whispered, avoiding my dad’s set jaw and flaring nostrils. All the faces I'd been familiar with as the family disappointment.

“Chris, you come back soon,  _ putar _ ,” my mom called softly as we started lining up at the door. “I want to see you again, talk to you about things. We need to finish our conversation before I-” she cut herself off with a harsh cough and Chris, who'd been looking at her curiously, grabbed the nearest water bottle to hand to her. 

My father turned his head away, too prideful to even thank him for the water. My mother smiled weakly, “I like you. So, be good to my girls.”

Chris nodded once, clearing his throat, and when I glanced at his face, he looked tired. Tired and heartbroken and probably exactly the same way I looked. 

“Come on,” Archie said quietly, seeing that none of the adults were fit to talk. “Maya, hold Chris’ hand.”

As everyone exited, I took one last look back at my mother, not even attempting to look at my dad. “I'll call you tomorrow, mom.”

The walk out was quiet, until Archie came next to me and whispered, “Holy crap, dude. Dad just got chewed the fuck out by Captain America.”

I didn't really have it in me to smile, even though I was acutely aware that she said this only to make me laugh. “Let's not use the word fuck, Arch.”

“You just did!”

“I know, but that's because dad just got  _ chewed the fuck out _ by Captain America,” I smiled pathetically at her and she nodded. 

“He got his ass handed to him.”

“You're cursing way too much for a fourteen year old.”

She just shrugged and gave me a reassuring grin before picking up her pace to walk next to tense Chris and a silent Maya. 

When we got into the car, it was strained and quiet and all the things I didn't want it to be so I cleared my throat and said, “So we’re stopping for groceries but I'll just go in myself. Chris, can you stay in here with the kids?”

He nodded once, keeping his eyes out the window and then ignoring me again. I tried not to cry because I didn't know if he was mad at me or at the situation or what was even going on in his head. 

By the time I parked outside the corner store near the house, everyone seemed exhausted. Maya was sleeping on Archie’s shoulder and Archie’s headphones were in, so she was lost to the world. I unbuckled my seatbelt and felt Chris’ eyes on me.

“What does putar mean?” he asked, his voice dry and quiet from the yelling before. 

“It means my child,” I mumbled. 

“Does she call you that?”

“Yeah, us girls and now you I guess. It's a term of endearment.”

“Oh,” he swallowed and nodded, looking back out the window. He had nothing more to say, so I opened my car door and went inside. 

I picked up some stuff that wasn't on the list though, for Chris. And it was kind of stupid, like a dumb thank you gift that wasn't really a gift. But I wanted to do something for him that wasn't sexual. For once. 

We’d all went our different ways once we got back home. Maya was always quiet after a fight and Archie always shut herself off after trying to make me feel better for a bit. I think she'd be angry at herself for not being able to help. And I guess Chris… He seemed mad but maybe he just needed to be alone. 

But I couldn't convince myself to leave him alone. That was why I ended up at Chris’ bedroom door after an hour of being home and working up the courage. 

I couldn't really believe I was doing this. I was being such an idiot. ‘Hey, thanks for sticking up for me when my dad was being a piece of shit,  _ here's a donut _ !’

I'd already knocked. I didn't even remember knocking, but I knew Chris was behind that door. I could hear the shuffling and the thud of his boots on his wood floors as he came to answer. He looked confused when he cracked open the door, only enough for me to see one side of his face. Just a part of his nose and one beautiful, bright eye could be seen. 

He waited a moment before opening the door wider and motioning for me to come into his room. His bedroom… You know, the one I’d been asleep in last night. Cuddled up next to him and Maya like a weird little family. That felt like it was years ago instead of twelve hours ago. 

“Hey,” I said as I stepped in, fucking eloquent and great with getting to the point as always. “I, I'm. Uh, I brought you a donut. It's… Purple-flavored.”

“Nothing--Nothing’s purple flavored, Sim,” Chris broke out into a small laugh, light and bright like everything about him was. Just so fucking perfect that it hurt my eyes to look at him, he was like the damn sun. 

I swallowed then, chancing a smile at him before dropping it and focusing on the buttons of his polo absently. “So, you're not mad at  _ me _ , right?”

“What?” his laughter stopped and I wanted to bring it back. He frowned as he took the donut from my hand. 

“I’m just… I’m sorry, about before.”

“You do not have to apologize for that.”

“No, no, I do,” I shook my head, biting my lip hard. “I shouldn't have provoked him.”

“You didn’t, he's kind of just an asshole.”

“I know,” I nodded, accepting his words.

“Stop biting your lip,” Chris sighed almost sadly. “I was never mad at you.” 

His frown deepened as I sighed in relief. “Oh. Okay, good. You just… It seemed like you were. On the way home.”

“I was angry, because…” he took a breath, inhaling deeply and then exhaling a sigh. “You don't deserve any of that bullshit. And yeah, I probably fucked up. But I was pissed because  _ you deserve better _ .”

He looked so sincere, his eyes basically begging me to believe him. It rendered me speechless. I was pretty sure it was against the law for Chris to be this nice to me. I didn't know how I could ever even start to repay him for all of this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a 9k chapter because I felt bad for taking almost nearly a month, yet again. But also, I'm begging for comments because they fuel my motivation to get things out faster.
> 
> Also, I changed the name of my tumblr url, so I'm located at: fuckyouevans.tumblr.com


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Firstly, let's just all pretend that UPS delivers on Sundays? Thanks. Secondly, you can thank @ambitiousacid on tumblr for the “dong” thing because she never shuts up about it. Thirdly, this took a month but it’s also 10,900+ words, so. Forgive me.

Everything had seemed like it was going great at first, right? I was living with Chris, I had my friends and sisters, I had a few roles lined up for the next year or so. But as everything began to pile up, I slowly began to realize things were definitely worse than they appeared to be. The worst of it all was probably that they just  _were_  and I couldn't tell you why for the life of me. I'm beginning to think I didn't appreciate how good things really were, before it all went to shit.

Everything went by so fast, and I didn't even take the time to really appreciate it. I was too busy moping around over losing that dumb Spider-Man role to realize that I should've cherished these moments of calm and happiness. It was weird to think that right now were some of the last times I’d be truly happy, now that I thought about it.

To be fair, I was justifiably upset over what happened at the hospital two weeks ago. Chris and I had visited my mom with and without the girls a couple more times but I hadn't spoken to my dad since the fight. He hadn't attempted to reach out to me either and I certainly wasn't going to go out of my way to talk to him. Chris felt horrible and he'd told me so, but I said it was fine. I didn't know if I was reassuring him or myself, or maybe both.

I think these last few days were the calm before the storm and I didn't even notice. I thought these days were shitty but worse was yet to come. The problem was that everything felt like it was already crashing down and burning. But it wasn't. Not yet, anyway.

I should've focused on the positive— we all say that but it's true. I should've realized that things were  _not_  that bad. My sisters and I had bonded a lot over the month. I’d gotten the closure I wanted with my mother. I saw Chris a lot, despite him constantly going in and out of the house to do press for Civil War, and forcing me actually house-sit. On days I missed him, Char would come over, let me rant about my dad and in turn, I’d let her rant about the incompetent idiots at her job.

It seemed that everyone could tell I was feeling horrible these days. Evidently, they all tried to cheer me up. In fact, on Thursday, when I'd texted Marc the special code for my bad day, he’d gotten Char to take the girls for the weekend and dragged me to the mall with him and Scott to distract me. If Marc, who hated the mall and shopping for clothes, had decided it was time for retail therapy then I knew I probably seemed really bad.

“Beyonce’s new album made me cry,” Marc sighed as we sifted through clothes at H&M. I wasn't famous enough to be recognized often, which I had no problem with. But it was still awkward to see myself on the walls, modeling the same clothes I was looking through right now.

“He's not joking,” Scott added, trying on sunglasses in a nearby mirror. “He fuckin’ cried  _during_  the visual album and then  _after_  for at least an hour.” 

“It was powerful, Scott!”

“As powerful as my ass?”

Marc hesitated, much to Scott’s chagrin. “They're on about the same level.”

“I bought it but haven't listened to it yet,” I admitted, holding a lilac romper up to look at the price tag. “It's that good?” 

“Oh, hell yeah it's that good,” Marc said, eyes widening and vigorously nodding with emphasis.

“Alright, I'll listen when I get home.”

“It’s about her getting cheated on and the whole process of it.”

“Jay-Z cheated? How could anyone cheat on Beyonce?” I exclaimed, ignoring the people who turned to look at me.

“It’s more than the cheating,” Marc added. “It’s about black, female empowerment and social justice and life handing you lemons, so you make lemonade.”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, all that too.”

“It’s just beautiful, Sim. Char already watched the visual album four times.”

“It might put you in a shittier mood though. You'll probably cry your eyes out like Marc,” Scott said, pulling his eyebrows together in a way that reminded me of his brother. “Today’s supposed to help you with your shitty mood.”

“My shitty mood probably won't be going away any time soon.” 

Scott frowned. “Don't say that.”

“You'll get through it.” Marc offered me a pair of striped shorts that reminded me of a pirate and I pushed it away with a frown.

Scott put his arm over my shoulder and gave me a strong side hug. “We’ll help you as best as we can.”

I sighed, “Yeah, well. I don't think anything will really help.”

The three of us walked to the men’s section of clothing and I’d noticed that things were uncharacteristically quiet for a few minutes as we looked through the hangers.

It was short-lived when Marc smirked at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “As a great medical doctor who knows all the shit, I’d prescribe a daily dose of Evans’ dong.” 

“Marc, you own a fucking restaurant. And can't you be normal and use the word ‘dick’ like everyone else?” I rolled my eyes as I held up a bomber jacket to him.

He looked at the price tag, shook his head and then said, “Listen, I'll have you know from personal experience that Evans’ dong is magical. Scott’s is anyway. I’m sure it runs in the family.”

“It’s great that you’re acknowledging the mystical powers of my dick,” Scott smirked. “But I don’t know if Chris’ is as good as mine.”

“First of all, it’s a mystical dong. And you’ve had enough stories of your brother’s dong to make me think it’s at least on par with yours.” 

“Sweetheart, shut up,” Scott looked around to make sure no one was listening in before adding, “But he's not wrong. We got some voodoo magic in our dicks. And even if we didn’t, sex releases endorphins and all that shit.”

“It could get your mind off of things,” Marc insisted with a grin, coming up on the other side of me to box me.

“I am not talking to either of you about this, Christ,” I mumbled, glaring at both of them as we stopped in between the aisle of men’s jeans. “I just wanna get fucking drunk.”

“That can be arranged,” Scott agreed, looking at the time on his phone. “It's past five o’clock, right?”

“Like I'd give a fuck if it wasn't,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and getting myself out from in between the two.

“Okay, but first. I have an idea,” Scott interjected, pausing and holding a hand up to stop my beeline to the checkout counter.

“If that idea is anything but me being handed a fruity alcoholic drink in the next ten minutes, I don't want to hear it,” I grumbled.

“It involves you getting some lingerie so you can fucking get some confidence back and have a fun time with Chris’ dong,” he replied with Marc nodding enthusiastically behind him. “Seriously. It'll be fun.”

“Marc fucking hates shopping,” I said, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “And I hate lingerie.”

“So we’re both giving up something,” Marc laughed. “And Scott’s giving up this ugly yellow polo that he's so not gonna buy.”

Scott looked scandalized, clutching the fabric of the polo he'd been admiring close to his chest. “I like it.”

“Nope. Put it back.”

Once Scott put the shirt back, we checked out at H&M and then went to Victoria’s Secret. The reaction from the two was lackluster, but I hadn't noticed just yet.

Marc sighed, disappointed. “This is—”

“Not what—” Scott continued.

I interrupted both of them, eying the display of a corset and panties. “Hey, these aren't so bad!”

“Sim,” Marc raised an eyebrow. “Are you for real?”

I stopped looking through the sizes of the push-up bras in front of me, confused. “What?”

“The lingerie here is boring as fuck,” Scott deadpanned.

“How? This shit already looks so complicated. I don't even know how to get it on, let alone have Chris take it off.” 

Scott scoffed. “Oh, he knows how to take off lingerie.” 

“What the fuck do you even know about lingerie, Scotty baby?” Marc snorted, wrapping his arms around Scott from behind and kissing his cheek.

“Not much,” he admitted. “But this shit is pretty basic.”

“He's right, actually,” Marc sighed. "I'm the one who has dated women. I'd know."

“Uh, just because I'm gay doesn't mean I can't tell you when something looks like shit.” Scott elbowed Marc absently.

“Okay, so what the fuck am I gonna do?” I asked, rolling my eyes at the two.

“Wow, you really wanna get dicked down, huh?” Marc ignored my deadly glare. I supposed he was too used to being on the receiving end of it that it no longer phased him.

Scott offered help, thankfully. “Online shopping, it is, then?”

“I know a few sites,” Marc agreed, “Make it express shipping, I wanna know if the dong magic runs in the family as fast as fucking possible." 

I opened my mouth to yell at him but Scott beat me to it. “Sweetheart, if you ever say dong again, we’re over.”

“Dong.”

Scott sent him an exasperated but fond look that was reminiscent of the face Chris made at me. “I swear to fucking God, Marcus Giuseppe Pace.”

“ _That's_  your middle name?!” I exclaimed in shock, looking at my best friend who’d never in his entire life let me or Char know his middle name. “Christ. I need a fucking drink.”

— — — — — —

“Heeeey, Chris. Listen, your brother and Marc got me drunk as fuck and I need a ride home,” I slurred into the phone, giggling at how they were grinding against each other and kissing on the crowded dance floor. “Yuck, they’re like, the cutest couple ever. It’s despicable.”

“Sim! Where the fuck have you been?”

“Man, I'm drinking it up. Having the time of my damn life, bro!”

“I come home to an empty house after a long day of stupid press,” Chris said, his tone resembling my father’s when he was gearing towards a lecture and I nearly flinched at memories. But this was Chris and Chris was nothing like my father. “And no one answered my texts or calls, so—”

“Oh boy, well, today was hell and I’m sad. So Marc and Scott took me the fuck out!” I laughed, shaking my head at the dancing couple that kept beckoning for me to come. Sighing, I mumbled, “God, it would’ve been so fun if you were here.”

“I wasn’t invited,” he replied sarcastically and I could hear shuffling in the background. “But what's the name of the bar?”

About a half hour went by of Marc and Scott teasing me about Chris and then pulling me onto the dancefloor. I was stuck between the two of them, demonstrating a horrible attempt at the moonwalk in heels when Chris showed up. He caught my elbow as I tripped over myself and scoffed at the three of us.

Letting out a low whistle, he examined my flushed face and swaying body. “You guys are  _wasted_.”

“His middle name is Giuseppe!” I giggled, jabbing a thumb towards Marc as Chris led me, and by default, Scott and Marc, away from the dancefloor.

“It's so Italian, it's Italian  _as fuck_!” Scott said, looking at his brother with a wide smile. “We're half Italian and we got shitty names.”

“They're pretty boring,” Marc agreed, throwing an arm over Scott while we approached the less-crowded bar. “Because they're trademark white names.”

I snorted, sitting down at the counter and looking up blearily at the three men. “Marc, you're white as snow too. Italian is like… Like, white with some olive oil.”

Scott and Marc dissolved into laughter and I grinned proudly at Chris. He let out a small chuckle of his own, “Yeah, yeah, you're pretty funny, Sim.”

“I know, I am,” I said as Scott and Marc sat at the bar as well. “Wanna have a drink with us?”

“I’m here so we can go home,” Chris refused. “I got beer at home that I already paid for.” 

“One drink,” I pouted, hanging onto his huge arm. “Please?” 

“Ugh.” 

“Pretty please?” I jut out my bottom lip and peeked up at him through my lashes.

He begrudgingly glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Fuckin’ fine. Get me a Sam Adams.”

“Thank you, pretty boy,” I murmured, leaning up to aim to kiss the corner of his mouth but ending up at his ear somehow.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Pretty eyelashes, pretty face, pretty mouth, pretty, pretty, pretty,” I sighed dreamily, basically falling into his arms and hanging onto him like a koala bear held onto a goddamn tree trunk.

“Jesus Christ, you’re makin’ me blush,” he muttered, rolling his eyes with a smile.

“Pretty red cheeks,” I grinned at him. Then, I turned back to the bartender and asked for the beer and a pina colada.

Chris eyed me cautiously as I wobbled in my seat. “Exactly how many drinks have you had?”

“Mostly just light stuff, but a lot of it. I've had to pee like, a hundred times.”

“You're fuckin’ outrageous.”

The bartender handed us our drinks and I rummaged through my purse to tip him an insane amount of money for the number of drinks he brought me and the guys.

Chris talked to Marc and Scott, casually drinking his beer and talking animatedly. I zoned out for a bit as I mindlessly inspected the maraschino cherry in my drink instead of actually taking the sips I was supposed to be.

“Okay, well, you guys have fun going home,” Scott said, getting up after some time and interrupting my staring contest with the counter. “The dance floor is calling to us.”

“Because we're not an old, married couple,” Marc added smugly.

“Whatever,  _Marcus_   _Giuseppe_ ,” I snorted, standing up to hug them goodbye. “Have fun on the dance floor, assholes.”

“You have fun on that magical dong, Sim,” Marc barely whispered in my ear and I laughed out loud, feeling too drunk to stop myself.

Scott rolled his eyes, pecking his boyfriend on the cheek lovingly. “I hate you for that word. It's fucking weird.”

“What word?” Chris perked up, trying to stay in the conversation.

The three of us answered essentially at the same time. “Nothing.”

After they disappeared into the crowd, I giggled at the drink in my hand, bringing Chris’ attention back to me. “You ever watch Guardians of the Galaxy?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Duh.”

“There's that song about pina coladas,” I giggled before slurping the drink obnoxiously loud, leaving about half of it left. I leaned in closer to him to sing, “If you like pina coladas, getting caught in the rain. If you’re not into yoga, if you have half a brain. If you like making love at midnight—“

“I do like doing that,” he interjected, sending me a teasing look that sent me into another fit of giggles. “Okay, finish your damn drink. It’s only 11 but I'm tired as fuck. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know.” 

“I know, you fuckin’ old man.”

He glared at me playfully before grabbing the drink in my hand and polishing it off. Afterwards, he ran a hand over his beard and smirked at me. “Hey, these are pretty good.” 

“I really wanna kiss you,” I blurted out with no preamble, not taking my eyes from his bright red lips. I wanted a lipstick color that came in the same shade of his lips.

Chris looked like he wanted to say something else but instead came up with, “Come on, let’s get you home.”

I felt a little rejected but quickly recovered, nodding at him in agreement despite not getting up from my seat and staying where I was. I felt a little dizzy, like I was gonna be sick, so I closed my eyes and rested my head on the cool counter.

He hesitated, running fingers through my hair and down over my back in a soothing motion. Repeating the same words he'd said a billion times tonight, he said, “Sim, wanna go back to the house?” 

I stayed quiet until the feeling of dizziness passed. Thankfully, I wasn’t going to puke on Chris’ expensive looking shoes at this very moment. Glancing back up at him, I smiled widely and he smiled back, albeit confused.

“It's our home,” I pointed out, already forgetting my stupidity and his rejection. “You’re so sweet and nice to me. What’d I ever do to get a hot fuckin’ beefcake like you to be so kind?”

“You're giving me too much credit and giving yourself too little,” he said seriously as he offered a hand to help me off my seat at the bar.

“Me? I’m a hot mess,” I slurred slightly, standing up, only to stumble a little and laugh.

“You’re my hot mess, emphasis on the hot,” he murmured, rubbing a hand up and down my back. I giggled at his joke shamelessly, even though it wasn't that funny and really, quite over used. “Come on, it's getting late.”

“Okay, Christopher, take me home,” I sighed, literally falling back into his arms like before and wrapping my arms around his waist. “M’tired but I wanna fuck you.”

“Ooookay, calm down.”

“Want the mystical Evans’ dong to make me feel better.”

“The fuck? Are you calling my penis a dong?”

“It's gonna make me feel  _good_ ,” I giggled, ignoring him in favor of reaching down to play with his belt. His hand caught mine quickly and pulled it away from him. I chewed on my bottom lip, puzzled as to why he was denying me.

“Slow down there, babe,” he laughed. “You can barely walk right now and that’s supposed to happen  _after_  the fucking.”

I shrugged carelessly, smirking up at him as he tugged my arm. Squealing, I said, “Be careful, these heels are killing me!”

The parking lot was nearly empty, save maybe one or two people, as we walked to the black SUV Chris owned. I was leaning on him again, pressing him against the passenger side door as he unlocked the car. I lightly kissed along his jaw and started mumbling, “I love your beard. So  _pretty_.”

“Thanks, Sim,” he snorted, amused, while he opened the car door for me.

I groaned childishly, hopping in and shifting uncomfortably. “Please play that song, the Pina Colada song! That’s like, my new favorite song.”

He sighed, taking out his phone and typing out the name. He handed me the phone, so I tapped out the lyrics video to sing along. I relaxed, breathing in his scent as he leaned over to buckle my seatbelt. I hummed the song without playing it and his lips twitched into a smile before he shut my door, making his way to the driver’s seat.

“Sing along with me,” I pouted as he put on his own seatbelt.

Chris tried not to smile but I could tell he wanted to. Of course he wanted to! I was hilarious. As he turned on the engine, his face glinted in the night light and he finally smiled. “You're lucky you're so cute when you're drunk.”

I squealed happily, clapping my hands because I knew that he meant he would sing with me and for some reason, it made me super happy. I don't know why, probably just from being drunk off my ass. As I played the music, I failed to sing along very well and instead, just paid attention to Chris.

Really, he was a weird driver. He’d drive with one hand on the steering wheel and the other either holding my hand or on my thigh. Right now, his hand was resting gently on my thigh as if it was the most natural thing to do, rubbing his thumb over my skin and making me feel warm inside. He’d make the music louder for me whenever I asked and even without my asking at times. Chris always wore sunglasses when he drove during the day. I asked why once and he’d said, “My eyes are sensitive as fuck, okay?!” I’d just laugh at him. So, honestly, I loved driving with him.

When we got to the house, I definitely did not help Chris get me out of the car, just dropping my entire body weight on him and giggling at him as he trudged me along. 

I started laughing hysterically out of nowhere as we walked up to the front door. “You’re so cool, you know that? Like, can I say thank you enough?”

“You have, sweetheart.” He opened the door and looked at me expectantly, probably waiting for me to walk in.

“No but,” I sniffled, suddenly feeling very emotional. Drunk Me was going through a rollercoaster of emotions. “You’re the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Sim, please don’t cry,” Chris panicked, pushing me gently passed the front doorway. I shed a few tears despite his pleading and when he locked the door, he turned back to my sad face. “Nooo, why are you crying? Are you okay?”

“I’m just,” sniffle “so happy,” sniffle “because of you.” and then I launched myself into his arms, feeling the safety and warmth of him around me. If I was sober, I’d have remembered how tense I’d felt around him the first times we’d met. What a long ways away we were now.

“Baby, it's okay. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed,” he rubbed my back comfortingly as he pulled back to look into my watery eyes. “Sober Simran would kill me if I let you go to bed with your makeup on.”

“Sober Simran would kill you if you didn’t kiss Drunk Simran right now,” I quipped shakily, leaning up to catch his mouth. His lips were so soft and fluid against mine, like he was melting against me.

“We can kiss later,” he reasoned when he broke away all too soon, seeming like he was telling himself that more than me. I wrinkled my nose as he tried to tug me up the stairs. I had no shame. “Clean up and we can kiss.”

“Promise?” I would've followed him regardless of the answer, but I still liked hearing him say it. And he did promise.

After getting me changed into yoga shorts and an old T-shirt, avoiding my grabby hands, Chris gave me a glass of water, some crackers and an Advil. I stayed in his room while he told me he'd be back in a minute after getting ready for bed. Unfortunately, he took more than a minute, so I got bored and turned on his TV. Some careless scrolling led me to a movie I wouldn't usually have chosen to watch but I couldn't wait to see Chris’ reaction.

It didn't disappoint. 

He walked in, tripping seemingly on air while looking at the TV on the wall. I smirked from my spot on his bed and he let out a small, sarcastic laugh. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you put on Fantastic fucking Four.”

“Rise of the Silver Surfer, man, you're not as much of an asshole in the second one.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Oh my god.”

“Look at the screen. You're doing that weird eyebrow thing.”

“What eyebrow thing?” He didn't look at the screen. Instead, he came to the edge of the bed, putting his hands on his hips as he looked at me questioningly.

“ _The_  eyebrow thing.”

“What, this?” and then the motherfucker did it, bouncing his eyebrow up suggestively as if he didn't have a clue what I was going on about. He chuckled at my shocked expression, ”Oh my god.”

I sat up on my knees at the edge of the bed and grabbed his face in my hands, pulling him down to maintain eye level. He looked at me incredulously as I inspected his eyebrows. “Jesus, it's the eyebrow of  _death_.”

“Oh my god.”

“Stop saying that!” 

“You need to sleep.”

“It's not even midnight and it's a Friday night, Christopher. Let me live.”

I let go of him, moving back to my previous spot in the bed and relaxing into the warmth. He pulled the sheets back, settling in next to me as if it was something we did everyday. Honestly, it kind of was. We slept in the same bed at least every few days.

Chris mumbled against the pillow, already looking like he was going to knock the fuck out. “Fine, but nothing wild. We’re finishing this movie and sleeping.”

Luckily, it was near the beginning of the movie and the longer this movie went on, the more time I could spend with Chris.

“Fine!” I folded my arms over my chest and stared at the screen, acting like what he said wasn't a good plan. He hid his grin against his pillow but I could still easily see it.

I tried to mind my business and watch innocently for a few minutes, refraining from talking because I knew how much it annoyed people during movies. Until I couldn't help myself.

I nudged a half asleep Chris and he grumbled, looking at the screen and back at me. I bit my lip, stopping the laugh that was threatening to escape. “Did you really have to say ‘ _Flame on_ ’ every time you lit yourself on fire?”

His sleepy, hoarse voice was exasperated. “Oh my god.”

I shook my head in fake disappointment. “Say the lord’s name in vain one more time.”

Chris laughed, tired but still reeling from my joke. “You're not even Christian.”

“Don’t change the subject. ‘Flame on?’”

“It was Johnny Storm’s catchphrase, Sim.”

 “Seems a  _little_  unnecessary to me.”

“It was in the  _script_!”

I pecked his cheek, laughing at his defensive pout and settling myself against the heat of his body. I didn't know when I drifted off into sleep exactly, but I knew it was before the shirtless Chris, shower scene in the movie, so really, what was the point of watching the movie at all? 

— — — — — — 

The next day, I was a nursing a huge hangover and my bad mood from yesterday carried over. Apparently me getting drunk and being lighthearted then hadn't helped with how I felt.  

Chris got up early for a Saturday, probably out for a meeting or some press, but when he was back around noon, he'd brought donuts. I remember waking up briefly when he came back but then I went to sleep again, staying in his bed until five o'clock in the evening. I finally mustered the courage to get up, grabbing not one but two donuts from the dining table, coming out to the living room and sitting myself down on the loveseat.

Chris was puttering around in the kitchen and said nothing to show he noticed me, but I heard the microwave beep and realized he was probably making something. The smell of popcorn wafted through the air and my stomach growled despite currently eating. I’d just finished the second donut and got up to get a third when Chris walked in. 

“Sim,” he started slowly, shooting me a look as he took his seat on the couch across from me. “You've barely been taking care of yourself.”

“What?” I asked, glancing down in confusion. “I'm wearing pants!”

“That’s not...? Okay, shut up and come sit with me. Let's watch a movie. I bought extra buttery popcorn for you,” he smiled pleasantly, gesturing towards the bowl in his lap.

I raised a curious eyebrow at him, doing my best not to mirror the smile he was giving me. “You've been watching a copious amount of movies and eating way too much junk food.”

“It's your fault.”

“That's true,” I agreed, getting up from the loveseat to sit closer to him instead. “Let's watch a sad movie.”

“Why?” he asked, allowing me to settle into his side and get comfortable. He rested an arm against the back of the couch and the other held the popcorn bowl, but I felt his lips brush against my temple softly. A reassuring kiss that I leaned into.

“Because I'm sad, Christopher.”

“Why would you watch a sad movie when you're sad?”

“ _Because_. Now help me choose!”

He paused, looking thoughtful. “Oh, let's watch Titanic. That shit always makes me cry.”

“I haven't seen it.”

“Really? Well. Fuck me sideways.” Chris said in surprise.

“Sure later, if you want,” I replied with a shrug but an overtly scandalous wink.

Chris ignored the teasing because, apparently, the shock was just too much for him. “How have you— _Never_? You’ve never seen The Titanic.  _The Titanic_ , Simran! With the ‘don’t let go, Jack’ and the ‘draw me like one of your French girls’ and the ‘it’s been 84 years’-”

“Sometimes you really don’t know when to shut the fuck up,” I groaned, stealing the popcorn bowl from his grasp and taking a handful.

“The fuckin’ Titanic. You watch movies constantly, how have you not seen this goddamn movie? It's fucking iconic, Sim. My Heart Will Go On makes me cry, like, automatically. It's like I'm conditioned to cry when that song comes on.”

“Okay, sometimes you make me wanna put a gag in your mouth,” I sighed, stuffing my face with more popcorn. Then, I added, with my mouth full, “And  _not_  in the fun way.”

Chris just grumbled until I finally allowed him to play the movie. I shut up then, getting lost in the film. I cried a lot at the end. Even more than Chris did, who only let stray tears come down his face. He looked like a fucking angel and I hated him for it because I was a big mess in comparison.

We cleaned up, putting away the dishes we'd used for popcorn and donuts. He glanced out the window in the kitchen, looking like he was thinking very hard. He always did that, thinking really hard and then saying something that I knew wasn't what was on his mind. I just never called him out on it.

“You wanna go outside? On the roof?” Chris asked, eyes moving back from the window to look at me. “It's nice out and I've never taken you up there. You'll like it.”

I sighed dramatically. “Okay, but if I die, it's your fault.” 

Before taking me, he grabbed a beer from the fridge. Leading me up the stairs and to his bedroom balcony, we climbed up to the roof with a blanket he grabbed from his closet.

When we settled down on the ratty blanket, it was nice and quiet and calm. The sun was setting low in the sky and the colors were beautiful, bright and blinding.

“Where have you been hiding this?” I breathed out, not taking my eyes away from the sky.

“Right over your head,” he said wryly.  

“Hardy har har,” I muttered. 

“Do you want to sit in comfortable silence or talk? I can't tell what vibe you're givin’ me right now,” Chris teased softly, bumping his shoulder against mine.

I shrugged, a smile tugging up at my lips without my permission. “I like talking. It distracts me.”

He looked ahead for a moment, scratching his nose with his thumb absently as he thought of what to say. “Okay, uh. What's your favorite color right now?”

“Orange, like the color of the sunset right now. I don't like green anymore, that used to be my favorite.”

“I remember it was. Why not anymore?”

“Reminds me of hospitals now.”

“Oh,” his eyes flickered in acknowledgment. My mother's hospital room was a pale green and with the recent visits, he was sure to realize.

“I might get a haircut,” I mumbled into the quiet around us, toying with a strand of my long hair. It was lower than my ass now, so long that Lorena suggested it was time for a change.

“How short?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Not short at all. I’d rather cut off an inch or two, maybe end the hair at my hip instead of my ass.”

He snorted. “I wanna go back to the buzzcut.”

“Why do you want to be bald so bad?” I teased. “Using all that product in your hair is receding your hairline anyway.”

“You like this look!” he said defensively, running a hand over his head and smooth his hair back.

“Yeah,” I admitted, biting my lip.

He paused, looking out into the sky again. Turning abruptly towards me, he chuckled, shaking his head. "Found a gray hair the other day. I guess I really am an old man."  
  
"Oh stop, people get gray hairs all the time. It's natural."   
  
"Natural for old people. Like me. I'm basically a middle-aged man now. You're fucking an old guy."  
  
"I knew that already," I said before halting when I realized Chris was genuinely pouting. Literally looking like a hurt puppy over something as small as a gray hair. "Oh my god, I'm joking."  
  
"I know. But I'm old now. And I've accomplished next to nothing."  
  
I knew he was most likely talking about things like marriage and kids. Things that adults his age, and even mine, were expected to have. And I didn't really know what to say to that. Not anything serious anyway.

He noticed my hesitation and sighed. "You know, for the longest time, I thought I'd marry Jessica."  
  
"Really? How was she?" 

I was curious. We'd never really talked about relationships before, not that it was expected of fuck buddies. But Chris and I were close and we were friends. We could talk about relationships without awkwardness. I hoped.   
  
"Jess was sweet. Always fun to be around and smart. Super smart. She didn't even like me at first," he laughed suddenly, as if at a memory. "Even when we were together, she didn't really like me. We were kind of hot and cold. We were young, you know?"

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "How young?"  
  
"I was 20 when I met her. And we officially ended things at like, 25."  
  
"Wow," I nodded, stealing the beer from his hand. I tried not to think about how I wasn't even 24 yet. "So it was on and off?"  
  
He kept his eyes on me, a stare so intense it was probably burning a hole into my face. "Yeah, we'd have a break, fuck other people and go back to each other."  
  
"Sounds like a healthy relationship," I snorted, taking a swig and handing the bottle back to him.   
  
"But I liked her. She was real, she never tried to be something she wasn't with me."  
  
I snorted. "It's funny. She married a guy who could actually dance though, huh?"   
  
"Ouch, too soon," he winced jokingly. "Yeah, that's true. You know, if she hadn't been in a relationship when I was at my low, I probably would've begged her to get back with me again."  
  
"That's because you're afraid of risks."  
  
"What? Outrageous!” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I'm not talking about my past for you to psychoanalyze me. But, by all means.”

I leaned over, giggling into his shoulder for a moment before resting my head there and continuing. "Well, you like when things are familiar. You get used to things the way they are and you don't want them to change. A lot of people do that."  
  
"Nuh uh," was Chris' brilliant rebuttal.   
  
"How many serious relationships have you had since her?"  
  
He hesitated, rubbing a hand over his beard and looking up at the different colors in the sky. "Probably... Like, one or two."  
  
"Jesus. That was ten years ago, Christopher."  
  
"I know!" he groaned, covering his face in embarrassment. "But I just fucked around a lot!"  
  
"Everyone knows you're a slut."  
  
" _Simran_ , you're so mean!" he cried out, sounding both exasperated and like he wanted to laugh.   
  
I actually did laugh. "Okay, so who were the others?"   
  
"Well. It's all a blur, I had a lot of casual shit with girls. Oh! I don't know if she counts because it  _was_  kind of a fling but… Sandra Bullock."  
  
"You fucked Sandy B?!"  
  
"Yeah," he admitted shy but proud, a grin brightening on his face though he tried to hide it. "Yeah, I did."  
  
"Holy fuck. You fucking lucky dick."  
  
"I guess. But we didn't really have much in common. Plus, I think I was a phase for her and she got tired of the whole 'younger man' thing."  
  
"Yikes."  
  
"Yeah, yikes," Chris agreed, shaking his head. "Um. Well, after that... And before, actually, was Minka. We were together a couple of times. And we had this weird casual thing until recently."

I gnawed on my bottom lip as I hesitated asking the questions floating in my mind. Finally, I relented to my curiosity. “So, what was she like?”

“Well. She might not seem like it but she's down to earth. Super sweet, she'd try to one-up me on surprises and gifts all the time. But we’d fight a lot over stupid shit. Who is this girl texting you, why'd you take a picture with that guy, et cetera.”

“Jealousy?”

 “Yeah, but we were young.”

It irked me that Chris kept saying that. He wasn't that young when he got with Minka and I was a fucking baby in terms of relationship experience anyway. This conversation was just reminding me of that.

Chris continued on without notice. “We were doing long-distance and  _those_  are never fun… I think that was why we broke up the second time.”

“What about recently?" 

“Well. I think we both wanted to try a third time but we were too scared to say it to each other and the moment passed.” 

“So, you guys broke up but still fucked?”

“Yeah, and we went out for paparazzi every once in awhile. She had goals that she wanted to achieve before marriage and kids.”

“And you thought she'd achieve them while with you? In time to get married and have kids?”

“Yeah. But I thought wrong,” Chris paused again, taking a swig and looking straight ahead at the sunset.

"Huh. So. You thought about marrying her?" I pushed, tilting my head to the side.   
  
"Sometimes. I feel like I only ever did when we were breaking up or close to it. I thought it could maybe fix things."  
  
"That's not a good idea. Marriage isn't a bandaid for relationship problems."  
  
"I know that now," he sighed. "None of my relationships have ever felt right. They just felt comfortable. Like I knew what I was getting out of them."  
  
"Wow, sounds like you liked the familiarity again," I elbowed his side pointedly. "You really think you could've married her? Or any of them?"  
  
He shook his head, his eyes downcast. "No."  
  
"So, don't focus on them. Don't stay hung up on the past! Aren't you the one always making those speeches about living in the present?"  
  
"I mean, I try to. I love living in the present. But I feel like fate wants me to die an old bachelor."  
  
I scoffed. "You believe in fate?"  
  
His answer was immediate. "Yes." Then, furrowing his brows, he asked, "Don't you?"  
  
"No." My answer was also immediate. "I think we make our own way. Free-will and we choose our own destiny and all that shit."  
  
"Eloquent."  
  
I shoved him. "I'm serious."  
  
He shoved back with matching force, as in, not much for my small frame. "I'm serious, too. I believe in fate."  
  
Again, we came back to a comfortable silence and again, he was the one to break it.   
  
He smiled a little, letting his eyes crinkle as he glanced at me. "Do you know what today is?"  
  
"Uh. Saturday?"  
  
"No. It's the day I met you. A year ago today.”

I furrowed my brow as I thought it over. "When you spilled coffee on me or when you bought me food?"  
  
His cheeks tinted pink as he ducked his head. "Bought you food."  
  
"Ah. When you recklessly gave Maya your number. She could've leaked it online, you know," I mocked, grabbing his beer and stealing some more sips.   
  
"I had faith she wouldn't," he replied easily. “Given that she was five.”

I eyed him curiously as I handed back the beer. "Why  _did_  you give us your number?"  
  
"I gave  _you_  my number. I guess I just..." he trailed off, taking a huge gulp of beer. He looked like he didn't know what to say until finally. "Just wanted to sleep with you."  
  
I froze for a moment before snickering, "You fucking slut."  
  
"What? You have a nice ass."  
  
I smacked his arm and laughed harder, barely taking breaths between words and peals of laughter. "You... We didn't... We had sex in... The end of December... You were just... So patient... For a simple fuck!"  
  
He smirked a little oddly around the lip of the bottle. "It seems that I was."  
  


His laughter died down then, as he looked off into the distance. The silence engulfed us again, but this time it was a little less comfortable than before. I wanted to break it, and ask him why. Because I couldn't figure it out, what changed.

— — — — — —

On Sunday, I woke up a lot earlier than normal, still feeling like garbage but wanting to make up for the shitty weekend. Chris had been extra nice to me these past few days and I wanted to even the score. I didn't know he cared about anniversaries or days people met or any of that sappy shit but I should've realized he did.

That was such a Chris thing to do. To  _care_.

I had just finished putting on light makeup and brushing my hair when the doorbell rang. I stood still for a moment, looking at my reflection in the mirror as I tried to think of who it could be. Then I remembered.

The fucking lingerie.

Bolting down the stairs with lightning speed, I literally pushed Chris away as he opened the front door. Panting and running my hands through my hair, I did my best to remain casual in front of both Chris and the UPS employee.

The UPS guy stared back at me, unamused. “Package for Simran Grover?”

“Yup, that's me,” I grinned, taking the pen and scrawling my signature on the clipboard paper. He handed me the package and I snatched it quickly. “Thanks!” 

Shutting the door, I held the package close to my chest and smiled innocently at an incredulous Chris.

“The fuck?”

“It's just. I'm excited. New makeup,” I shrugged, slipping in the lie. “Got new liquid lipsticks from this brand that claims the staying power is blowjob proof.”

He perked up at the key word in that sentence. “Blowjob proof? If your makeup’s still on after that, I'm not doing it right.”

“Well, maybe we can test it out sometime,” I fluttered my lashes playfully and he threw his head back, laughing with enthusiasm.

“Okay, cool, well.” Chris nodded after standing there for a moment and seeing that I wasn't going to show him right away. “I'm gonna watch some Netflix.”

“I’ll be down soon,” I promised with a smile.

That was a lie. I wasn't down soon at all.

The straps of the fucking monstrous contraption somehow passing for a bra were a bitch to get on  _and_  my panties were barely over my ass  _and_  I didn't know how the fuck these suspenders worked. I wanted to call Char and ask for help but my phone was downstairs near Chris. So I had to try to fend for myself for God knows how long.

“Sim?” Chris’ muffled voice called through the door. “It's been like, twenty minutes. Have you been trying on all your makeup or some shit?”

The doorknob jiggled and I realized my mistake of not locking it at the same time that Chris was half way through the door. Rushing with no grace at all, I slammed the door and heard a smack on the other side.

“ _Hey_ —”

“It's fine, everything's fine! Just don't come in!” I yelled. “And get me my phone. It's down in the living room!"

“I came up here to give it to you,” he said pointedly through the door and I sighed in relief.

“Oh. Well.” I slowly opened the door, shielding my body with the wood. I extended my hand, allowing it through the crack of the door. “ _Thanks_.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at my waiting hand, placing the iPhone into my palm. I snatched my hand back quickly, about to close the door.  He caught my eye, however. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He didn't look convinced and I didn't blame him. I wasn't convincing at all. How the fuck was I an actress? “I'll be down soon.”

I slammed the door shut and heard a smack and groan. Chris’ muffled voice came through the door, “You probably broke my nose right now.”

I winced, even though he couldn't see me. “Are you okay?”

He paused. “I guess.”

“So you were just being a drama queen.”

“Maybe.”

“Good, then you and your beautiful, perfect beak need to go downstairs.”

I heard him mutter a few curse words and then his retreating footsteps. I sighed against the door and then looked up Char’s number for help.

Finally, after fifteen more minutes of Charlotte yelling at me over the phone and me whisper-yelling back as I struggled with the fucking suspenders, I was done putting on the lingerie.

Instead of calling for Chris right away like I should've, I started taking pictures in front of the mirror. I was posing in various positions, despite knowing I wouldn't send them to anyone (Well, maybe Chris? He was going to Philadelphia in a little over a month and these could be handy if I didn't want to change out of sweats some nights). Unfortunately, I forgot to lock the door again.

Chris strolled in without a care, glanced at my attire and stilled. He looked like a fucking fish, gaping at me. “What the shit. Holy  _fuck_!”

I, like an absolute idiot, was still mid-pose. My back arched unnaturally and a hand was delicately placed on my hip, phone pointed towards the mirror to showcase my entire body. Just as he was seeing now.

“Uh. Hey.” 

“Wow,” he breathed out, just staring at me like I was a fucking piece of art in a museum and I couldn't tell if that was positive or not.

Awkwardly waving, I dropped the position immediately. “Yeah, hi.”

He swallowed, shaking his head slowly as if to get out of his stupor. “Simran. What the fuck?”  

“You like?”

“Wh-What compelled you to—?”

“So. You  _don't_  like,” I said flatly, crossing my arms over my chest, defensive and self-conscious.

“What? No, I do.” He approached me, a slow grin spreading on his face. “You are Trouble, with a capital T.”

I bit my lip as I thought over his words and reaction. “Is that a good thing?”

“This is a very good thing. I like it, a lot,” he said as he leaned down for a sweet kiss. “What's this for?" 

“Well,” I cleared my throat, wanting to avoid the word  _anniversary_  because that was not really a word friends used, really. “I know I've been shitty lately and I missed that The Day We Met was yesterday, but I thought I could make up for it today.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he scrunched up his nose. “You are the best.”

As always, compliments made me awkward. Just as everything else did, really. So I just cleared my throat, “Can you fuck me up against the wall?”

“ _Jesus_.”

“What, too heavy?”

He didn't dignify that with a response, sliding his arms down to my ass, pulling me hard against him and raising me up. I gasped at the sudden movement but acted quickly, wrapping my legs around his tiny waist and my arms around his thick neck. He was acting like I weighed nothing and it was so intoxicating to be held up this way. 

His lips were sloppy against mine but I hummed at the pleasure and pain buzzing through my body. His enthusiasm was contagious and I felt excitement thrum through me, despite the hard wall slammed against my back. We had long, lingering kisses. Chasing each other’s mouths, he pressed his fingers roughly into my skin and I knew there was a possibility I would bruise. I relished in it.

“Talk to me.” His breath came hot in my ear while I was sucking on his neck, right under his freckles.

“ _Chris_ ,” I whined, scrunching up my nose in distaste. He sent me puppy dog eyes in a way that begged ‘Please do what I want’ so I sighed, obliging. He pressed me harder against the wall and made me bite my lip in both pain and pleasure. "Wanna fucking feel you, I'm gonna fuck you so good. I swear to fucking God. You don't know what you fucking do to me sometimes. You're so fucking hot—"  
  
“You don't need to speak in full sentences,” He snickered, breaking me out of my spiel. "And jeez, said the word fuck enough?"

I scoffed, feeling my face heat up. "That's rich, coming from you."  
  
"I better be  _coming_  from  _you_."  
  
"You will be, now shut the  _fuck_  up and let me do my dirty talk."

“You're just a modern day Casanova, hon.”

“You're just a prick,” I muttered back, jutting out my bottom lip but so not pouting. I was  _not_  pouting. I could feel his body shaking with laughter against me. I pulled him in for a kiss to shut him up and we became distracted with each other’s mouths again. I think Chris had a thing for kissing. He never seemed to stop, always wanting his mouth on mine. I liked it.

“I wanna take this off,” He rumbled finally, moving his mouth to the swell of my breast and licking along the top of my bra. I arched my back against him and let my head thud against the wall. “Want that? Want this gone, baby?”

“Please,” I nodded as eagerly as I could with my head leaning back. He obliged, telling me to hold his shoulders as he artfully and easily removed the bra that took me a good ten minutes to put on.

“What about your panties?” I could feel his smirk against my lips. The bastard.

My internal monologue was angry but my physical body just needed him to fuck me, so what came out of my mouth was, “ _Please_.” even though it wanted to be  _I will fucking fight you_ instead.

“Anything for my good girl,” he said, setting me down to make it easier to remove them. I whined at the action and then at his mouth licking and biting at my nipples as he expertly undid my straps and removed my panties. I couldn't even comprehend how far he was leaning down to do this to me but fuck, was he enthusiastic.

“Okay, you gotta wear these again,” Chris whispered, throwing the panties to the side as he did with the other garments. His fingers slid between my legs easily as I was soaked. 

When he moved back, I yanked off his shirt and unbuckled his belt. My hand found his hard cock as he tried to pull down his jeans. I leaned up on my toes, sucking on the tattoo at his collarbone as I rubbed him against my palm. He batted my hand away, pulling his boxer briefs off as well and then picking me back up to press against the wall. 

“Color?” he prompted me, our foreheads together and already slicked with sweat.

I closed my eyes briefly. “Green.”

He kissed me again, guiding himself into me. I opened my mouth for him and he slipped his tongue in, distracting me from the feeling of being stretched. It always took me a minute to adjust to his size, despite the amount of times we had done this by now, but once he started moving, it was all pleasure.

I dug my nails into his shoulders and he shuddered against my mouth. We kissed for so long as he thrusted in and out, my gasps being drowned out by his demanding mouth. I could feel my back starting to ache but I ignored it for the pleasure at hand.

“Sim, fuck,” he whimpered after the kiss, bracing his hands against the wall as he settled deep into me. "So goddamn wet, get me so hard."

I felt my back scrap against the wall with every full bodied thrust he gave, leaving me mewling in pleasure.

"So good," I mumbled against his lips, pressing my nails into his skin at every rock of his hips. Fighting back embarrassment, I tried to talk some more. "So thick, filling me up so nice."  
  
“Yeah?” He pressed his sweaty forehead against mine, thrusts becoming reckless.

"Yeah, fuck yeah," I breathed in confirmation. “So close, baby, just a little more."

I ground down, desperately trying to create more friction and get me to the edge. Placing my chin on his shoulder and clinging onto him, I glanced at the vanity on the wall opposite us. His back was raw, my claw marks marking him up, and I assumed mine would be similar, bruised and scuffed from the wall, but I literally did not care. 

He groaned helplessly, quickening his pace and angling so that his hip bone rubbed against my clit. I was  _so_  close, feeling every nerve on fire.

“Just a little more, baby–” But I was cut off by Chris who made a small groan. I didn't realize in the moment, but not a second later Chris  _came_ , without any warning but  _with_  a gasp. 

I looked at him incredulously after his heavy breaths evened out. "Did you just…?"  
  
"I'm so sorry—"

“You asshole!” I pouted, because fuck you, Marc, this magical dong didn't do shit!

He kissed me quickly, dropping me down on my shaky legs without much grace, “Hey. Trust me, okay? Go lay on the bed.”

I mustered the energy to raise an eyebrow. He gave me a reassuring smile on that stupid earnest face of his and pat my ass into the direction of the bed. Despite my annoyance, I listened to him, laying myself out slowly and trying to get comfortable.

“Christopher, I swear to god...” I grumbled the warning with no end to it like a fucking idiot.

He went into the bathroom and I heard the water running, but I had no idea what he was doing. My body was too tense, feeling on edge, like I had an itch to scratch and no means to scratch it. I mean, I could touch myself but where was the fun in that? Chris touching me was light years better, even if he did orgasm too soon.

When he came back out, a damp washcloth in hand, he smiled a bit shyly as he knelt down between my legs. “I fucked up because you felt heavenly.”

I snorted, but he continued as he wiped me down. “That's no excuse though.  _So_ , I'm gonna eat you out until you either can't take it anymore or until I get hard and fuck you again. Whichever comes first.”

He pressed his mouth hot against me without another word and I couldn't breathe. He was relentless, his tongue against my clit and his fingers brushing into me softly. Whenever I tugged on his hair, he moaned into me and the vibrations left me shaking. He made it up to me for sure, making me see stars twice before he came up for an exaggerated amount of air and leaned back on his legs.

Pointing at his hardening cock, he shot me a playful look, “Look what ya did to me.”

I rolled my eyes but I was beyond words by this time, feeling my body floating. Just slumping back against the pillows, I felt him take my legs over his shoulders and situate himself above me. One hand was resting against the small of my back to lift up my hips and the other was on the headboard, keeping him upright.

Gasping as he entered me slowly this time, he took his time and made sure I could feel him all around me. He gave me a heated kiss, easing into me and staying still for me to adjust again. I didn't need to, I just needed him to move now. 

He got into a rhythm and thrusted in and out punishingly slow. It was a complete turnaround from how we’d been against the wall, frenzied and fast, barely enjoying each other. He caught my eye as he pulled out almost all the way and then pressed back in, making my breath hitch.

I swallowed and found the courage to speak again. “Am I your good girl?”

“Yes, sweetheart, you're my good girl.” He didn’t look as though he’d be saying more but it always got me off quicker when he talked and, surprisingly, I was in a talking mood too.

“Tell me more,” I whined, undulating my hips desperately. 

“You're my best girl,” he promised, his thrusts the same as his voice—hard and deep. “The perfect girl, no one’s as good as you.”

“Do I feel good?”

“So tight and warm, fucking swallowing me up like this,” he moaned against my neck, stopping his words to bite my shoulder. “Always giving me exactly what I want. What I  _need_.”

I was dizzy with lust, feeling him surround me and inside me and everywhere. Chris was everywhere and I couldn't handle it but I loved it so much. All I could ask for was, “More.”

He rocked himself into me, still saying a litany of praises, “So desperate for my cock, huh? Can't get enough of it? I can't get enough of you, honey, you're the best fuckin’ thing.”

His thumb came down to rub against my clit and I came for the third time, feeling the warmth in my belly spread all around my body. The bright fireworks went off, stars dotting my vision, and Chris fucked me through it.

“Oh, sweet girl, can you do that again? Come one more time for me?”

I started to shake my head but as his hipbone brushed against my sensitive clit, I gasped, clutching onto his body for dear life. “Please.” 

“ _Baby_ , you're so pretty when you come, wanna see you do it again,” he whispered conspiratorially in my ear, moving roughly against me.

“Four?” I croaked out, my eyes squeezing shut as his tip stroked my g-spot incessantly.

“Yeah, please? I wanna make you feel so good,” he asked it so sweetly that it was physically impossible to deny him.

“You always make me feel good,” I murmured absently, “Please, don't stop.”

“I won’t, I won't,” he grunted, pulling my lips to his again in a biting kiss. The fourth time was rough, it took a few more minutes because I was oversensitive, but my body was spent and limp and needing rest. I could only freeze up and gasp, colors bursting and a fuzzy feeling in my stomach, as he kept thrusting roughly.

He hissed at the feeling my pussy clenching around him. Not long after, his jaw went slack and he pumped his hips half a dozen more times, emptying into me. I couldn’t be too angry at his previous blunder. Simply because he always looked beautiful when he came. Beautiful and absolutely wrecked. Anything I was feeling was in the back of my mind when I saw him like this. He looked like a corrupted angel with his red, bruised mouth open and eyes screwed shut, his lashes fluttering over the tops of his pink cheeks as he let out the most broken moan.

We collapsed and it sent me out of my trance of watching Chris. We were both exhausted and worn out from what was probably the most tiring thing I'd ever done. I sighed dreamily, allowing him to lay on top of me because I knew he wasn't letting his full weight rest on me.

I brushed back his damp hair and smiled. “That was the best sex I ever had. We may as well stop what we’re doing now, there’s no way it’s going to be better than this.”

Chris stiffened in my arms as I mulled over what I said.

“No,  _wait_. That’s not what I meant. It was great but I’m sure it could be better.” I giggled before realizing he still hadn’t moved.

I took in what I said again.

Another pause.

“Fuck. Okay. I’m done talking in general, forever.”

He chuckled, allowing me to push him off so I could turn away from him, covering my face with my hands. Spooning me, he nuzzled into my neck and I could feel his beard bristle against my skin, tickling me and sending a pleasant warmth throughout my body.

I could feel his smile against my skin and it made me smile too. “So. That was a nice surprise." 

“You know,” I drawled, looking at the blank wall in front of me, “I kinda liked having my bra and panties match. Makes me feel like I have my life together.”

“I thought you hated lingerie?”

“I do. Look at it,” I waved aimlessly at an area that our clothes probably weren't at. “It's just a pointless, crumpled mess on the floor.”

“As all clothes end up being.”

“Okay.” I thought about it for a moment. “True.”

He playfully bit the side of my neck and I squirmed in his arms. Giggling, I said, “Well. If you fuck me that good every time I wear lingerie, it’s gonna be my new best friend."

“You really know how to stroke a guy’s ego.”

“Among other things,” I teased, holding the arms that were wrapped around my bare waist.

“Shut up and put on my T shirt,” he laughed, his voice a little muffled from my neck. “If I see your boobs out, I'm not gonna be able to watch this fucking episode.”

“We can't have that,” I replied, pushing him off of me to stand up and slip on a light blue shirt that said something about Boston ( _typical_ ) on it.

While I did that, I checked the time from my phone on the dresser and made sure I had no messages. Chris propped pillows against the headboard and sat up against it, asking, “How long till Archie and Maya are back?”

“Probably a couple hours, sometime in the late afternoon.”

“Enough time to watch some Netflix without having to put on my clothes?”

 “You seem exhausted, the two orgasms wear you out?” I asked, climbing back in the bed next to him and mirroring his position against the headboard. 

He sighed and I don't think he meant for it to sound as tired as it did. “And holding you up against the wall.”

I giggled as he put his arm over my shoulder, “Oh, so you're saying I’m too heavy.”

“No. I’m just  _old_.” Chris scrunched up his nose and winced because of the barely there pain from before before, so I stretched up to kiss it. Then, I flinched, feeling the bruises on my back already starting to form. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. You didn’t ruin me. Felt good,” I mumbled with a shy smile.

He caressed my skin, feather-light touches on my shoulders and back. It felt tender, like he wanted to make me feel better with the smallest of touches. “Guess this grandpa knows how to keep up.”

“That you do, gramps,” I murmured in agreement, running my fingers lightly through his disheveled hair to mirror his touch on my back. When he sighed and leaned into my hand, something pulled at my heart strings. Pushing it away, I swallowed and deflected, “So, The Office?”

Looking back, it was a nice weekend and a fresh of breath air for the first time in a long time. But I’d disappointed myself. I wished that I’d cherished the domesticity of all this. I wished I’d cherished the fact that I was truly happy here. Most of all, I wished I’d cherished Chris.

Because I was pretty sure this was what home felt like, being in his arms and watching The Office, teasing one another and then deciding what to make for dinner. This was home to me and it was snatched away far too quickly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the link to what she wore lmao: http://www.agentprovocateur.com/us_en/cate-suspender-nude


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

I pinpointed the beginning of our shitty downfall to the night Chris asked me to attend the Captain America: Civil War L.A. premiere with him. Like, _ with him, _ with him, as his fucking date. It was late when he asked, too late, and I was sure he was just talking out of exhaustion from the several orgasms prior, but he asked, nonetheless, tired and giddy. 

I felt really bad seeing his face fall when I flat out refused. 

Chris, obviously, tensed up, clenched his jaw and mumbled, “Whatever. It's fine.” 

It clearly wasn't, but I wasn't in the mood to argue with him. He couldn't possibly fault me for refusing to go with him. It wasn't like I had much of a fucking choice, with paps breathing down both our necks. There was enough shit going around with Jenny Slate recently becoming the media’s latest target for Chris’s Potential Girlfriend. Apparently someone had seen Marc, Scott, Jenny and Chris leave a restaurant a couple weeks ago, and thanks to that fabulous podcast where they were being their natural playful self, now everyone was shipping Chenny. Or Jenris. 

I didn’t even care, or at least, I told myself I didn't. I hated thinking about this. 

Jenny was great, and honestly, I felt bad. _Her_ friendship with Chris was completely platonic and yet the media was still able to construe it into something it wasn't. I just couldn't imagine what they'd do given the real state of _my_ friendship with Chris. The fact that we were fucking, _fuck buddies_ , and even fucking living together would give paps a reason for a goddamn field day. So, when Chris asked, naturally I refused. I was frazzled to say the least, but honestly, who could fucking blame me? He had no right to be so agitated about it. 

I figured that Jenny was upset about the rumors considering she’d just gotten out of a marriage and Chris had hoped I would be back in the spotlight. It wasn't unreasonable to hope that I’d want that, it was show business and quite frankly, how things worked in Hollywood. But with everything going on with me, I couldn't handle the added scrutiny of paparazzi asking me about my relationship with Chris as they'd sometimes done in the past. Hell, it's not like  _ I _ even knew the fucking answer about where I stood with him. 

We were fighting, I think. He was mad or frustrated or agitated. He never said anything directly, but we acted like it was fine. 

Childish, I know, both of us were acting passive aggressive, but frankly, I couldn't stop myself. He was pissing me the fuck off. I didn't  _ have to _ be his date. I was under no obligation to and he had no right to think I was. 

Just because I was living in his house and fucking his God sent dick didn't give him the right to parade me around like  _ arm candy. _

We never really mentioned it, other than a few snarky comments here and there. But I could tell everything was thrown out of whack. We kept fucking, though in hindsight I think that was a stupid decision. It was fine when we fucked, normal. I was his good girl and he’d make me come in all the ways he wanted.

“Except to the premiere,” he had said snidely after a fuck session on the stairs. 

I rolled my eyes, but kept that in mind the next time I had him between my legs. I bit his lip a little harder, tugged his hair a little rougher and he reciprocated with the same desperation. Digging his fingers into my back and fucking me deep like it was the only thing he knew how to do.

(Okay, so maybe the sex wasn't completely normal either.)

We were fine on Maya’s birthday, setting aside whatever passive-aggressiveness we had felt. She wanted to spend the actual day with us but spend the weekend with my mom and dad, so we went all out. We were all happy, enjoying Lilo and Stitch and eating ice cream cake with cranberry juice. All Maya’s choice, as she was seven years old now (“A big girl!” Chris crowed as he carried her around the house on his shoulders.) and it was her day. 

I had to go out and buy two whole jugs of cranberry juice after Maya threw a fit when she caught me “drinking  _ her _ juice.” 

I wasn't actively trying to take away a six year–  _ seven _ year old’s juice. I was in desperate need of it, okay? To put it simply, the passive-aggressive nature of our rough fucking led to some interesting doctor’s appointments. Even more simply: I was an idiot, Chris fucked me raw, I had… a  _ few _ UTIs.

He’d laughed when I told him, recalling the first time we'd had sex. I had been the one to tell  _ him _ to pee afterwards. But with the shitstorm happening in my life, I was bound to forget a few things. Like peeing after sex. But whatever! Life got in the way and I drank cranberry juice like it was my job. 

So now the Evans-Grover household owned about 67 jugs of that shit. And if that didn’t say dysfunctional, I don't know what did. Maybe the angry-fucking.

Not like either of us would ever admit it.

Regardless, on that day, Archie and Maya were having a fun time and Chris seemed happy. I felt happy too, filled with cake and watching all our favorite Disney movies. So, that could explain why, when we put the girls to bed and started changing into our pajamas in his bedroom, I finally caved. 

“Okay, maybe.  _ Maybe _ I can show up to the premiere.”

Chris’ eyebrows shot the fuck up so quick, I thought they were flying to the moon. “Oh?”

“Yeah, ya know. I wanna watch the movie, of course,” I shrugged, chewing on my bottom lip as I threw a big T shirt on. “I have this dress from H&M I should wear out in a public event anyway.”

“So, you wanna go? With me?” a smile creeped up on his face slowly but surely. 

“No,” I said swiftly, feeling bad once again at his face falling. “No, listen, it's not… I won't go  _ with _ you. But I'll be there. For moral support and all that shit friends do.”

“Ah,” he gulped, smiling again but not as nicely as before. “Okay. Okay, thank you. For coming, at least.”

And that's how I landed here. At the premiere. 

I walked the carpet, minimal talking to the microphones (not the people, it never felt like I was talking to people at these things) and feeling antsy under my skin. 

Chris arrived later, in a fucking Audi no less. He looked good as hell in his nice blue suit and fucking sunglasses and bright, awkward smile. 

His toothy smile didn't take away from the fact he did seem nervous. Nervous, anxious and bouncy, the more I analyzed him. I know, it was mildly creepy, me standing from afar squinting at him to see if he was okay. I knew he would be a little anxious, but I hadn't gotten the chance to see him all day. He was a grown man, that was for sure, so I hoped he’d be okay, though I couldn't help but feel an odd churning in my stomach that I couldn't be there for him. I wished I’d been there with him earlier, to calm him down, talk to him, get his mind off of all the shit surrounding premieres.

At the same time I felt like maybe I was overreacting. He was anxious and jittery, but who knew if I could even calm him down? Hell, I probably couldn't. I'd been a mess myself lately. At least I would try, though. I suppose it's the sentiment that counts. Chris always said that. 

God. I made it sound like he was dead or something. No, he was very much alive, though away from me and probably hating me. 

I tried to ignore my thoughts, for the movie’s sake. Honestly, it was a good movie, worth the hype and Chris had done an incredible job as did his co-stars. But I was so focused on him and how our relationship was. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? What were we doing to each other? Were we falling apart?

He took me to the after-party, at least. Actually, he had his personal assistant guide me into a town car by myself and he met me at the back door. We said few words to each other, I'd praised the film and he'd given me a hug and kiss on the cheek that felt half assed.

It was stupid of me to think that Chris would, or even could, pay that much attention to me on his big day. It was a premiere of a blockbuster, summer hit and it was Marvel, for crying out loud. What the fuck was I thinking? I had expectations and that was my fucking problem. I shouldn't have gotten used to his attention, I was a dumbass who forgot that she was nothing in comparison to him. 

A few people came up to me, saying hello and recognizing me but it was pointless small talk. I kept trying to keep an eye out for Chris, not sticking to his side as he spoke to colleagues and friends and press but keeping a close distance. I gave him his space because it was his night and I didn't want attention drawn to the both of it. Paparazzi was everywhere, people in Hollywood were pretty shady and I felt like Chris didn't want me around anyway. 

It was hard to avoid him, not being around him every second. I found myself peering around for him, keeping a wary eye. It was easier when actually lost him about half an hour into the party. I stopped scanning the crowd like a creep. 

See, the after-party was in a hotel with West Hollywood with rooms that looked like they cost more than my entire salary. There were 30 floors and the large center that the party was held at was connected to a restaurant and bar. So, in summary, it was fucking huge and it wasn't surprising that I couldn't find him.

I went into an elevator, trying to find a fucking bathroom or something so I could take a breath. Without Chris around to talk to, I felt like a gaping fish out of water. He knew how to handle these things, he was the life of the party after all, and he always knew how to calm me down but he wasn't with me so I needed to be a big girl and do it myself. Somehow. 

Thankfully only a few others piled into the elevator with me, all of us picking their respective floors and all also politely ignoring each other. I didn't have an exact plan, I never really did. I had hoped just being on the elevator would give me enough time to level myself. 

People came in and out, some drunk and others just tired. I stayed in, psyching myself up to get back to the party and have fun with or without Chris. When there was only one other woman on the elevator, getting to the floor above where the after-party was held, I exhaled slowly, finally ready to get back. 

A snort from the other woman startled me and I noticed that the elevator doors were open to her floor. I looked curiously out, trying to see what she was snorting at. And then I saw it. Yuck. I rolled my eyes in agreement with the woman holding the elevator doors. A couple at the end of the hallway were making out obscenely, not even trying to be polite to those around them.

They didn't seem to notice or care, the man having the woman shoved up against a hotel room door, frantically trying to unlock it while groping, caressing and moaning in each other's mouths at the same time. They were loud, groans filling the hallway, eliciting another eye roll from me. I waited for the lady in the elevator to hold the door for other people entering, but a familiar grunt caught my attention and my head snapped back up, analyzing the couple in the hallway.   
  
Life was funny sometimes. You were looking for someone and then they just popped right up, right when you least expected it and in a way you couldn't even fathom. 

It was ironic that I didn’t believed in fate until now. Fate was what brought this all on. Fate was what led me into this elevator, was what led me to witness this sight, it was what led to my broken fucking heart. 

I had found Chris. And the woman he was locking lips with was none other than Minka.   
  
Chris and Minka were the couple I’d share an eyeroll over with a stranger in the elevator. Chris and Minka were making out in a hotel hallway like it was the privacy of their own bedroom. Chris and Minka were so wrapped up in each other that it really did look like they were the only two people in the world at that moment. Chris was making Minka moan and whine like he made  _ me _ . 

There was no cliche “This isn’t what it looks like” or “It’s not what you think” because what I saw was exactly what I saw. Because he was holding her up against a wall, was kissing her roughly and angrily like he needed it and — maybe he did. Maybe he did need it. Need  _ her _ in a way I couldn't ever begin compare.

But it still hurt. It wasn't fair for it to hurt, I knew that. We weren’t dating, we weren’t together, there was no real promise of  _ more _ . So, why did it hurt so fucking much?

A few more people got into the elevator and the woman stepped off with a final scoff. The elevator doors shut just as Chris and Minka got that hotel room door open. Maybe it was fate, after all. 

I didn't know how I ended up back at the party and back at the bar, but I did. I numbly walked through the crowds and ignored the sweaty, loud people to sit down and try to process what I felt. 

I felt… Like an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. I felt like my heart had fallen out of my ass. I didn't know how long I sat there, feeling like the biggest loser on earth, throwing myself a fucking pity party.

“Hey there,” a velvety voice said next to me, unexpectedly after I’d ordered my first drink of the night. I jumped and looked to the source of the sound, sitting at my left. My eyes widened as I took in who it was. 

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit _. _

“Holy shit,” I heard myself say out loud. Sebastian Stan was sitting next to me. He had a beer in his hand and a smirk plastered on his face.

“Nice to meet you,” he extended his hand expectantly. “I’m Sebastian.” 

Like I didn’t fucking know. This asshole. 

“Simran Grover,” I replied, placing my hand in his. He brought it up to his lips and pressed a light kiss on the back of my hand. It usually looked so awkward in movies but when he did it, I wanted to melt into the fucking seat. A sigh escaped me and he laughed a little. I dumbly repeated, “And you’re fucking Sebastian Stan.”

“I am,” He nodded, unperturbed. “Call me Seb, if you want.”

“I saw you in Gossip Girl and Once Upon A Time. Love those shows,” I told him, my mouth having no filter. 

“Ah, my best work,” he rolled his eyes, grinning sheepishly. 

“Oh, no, your best work is clearly Political Animals,” I shook my head vehemently. 

He gave me a curious smirk. “Yeah? You've seen it?”

“Duh,” I smiled. “Please tell me TJ is living happily in some old ranch in Vermont with a cute boyfriend and a successful business.”

Sebastian made a face, smiling wide, nose scrunching up as he chuckled. “I genuinely think he is. Maybe his new boy’s Bucky. You never know.”

“I like your thought process, but Buck’s stuck with Steve, sorry, didn't we just spend three hours establishing that?” I smirked. “And  _ obviously _ you did phenomenally in Captain America. Your performance as Bucky? Makes me cry, like holy shit.” 

“I warned everyone, I said you guys would cry!” he teased, taking a generous sip of beer. “Just like I had to cry whenever they slicked up my goddamn arm with a bunch of lube for that fuckin’ metal contraption.”

“You look hot with a metal arm though, fuck. But I mean. You also look hot with normal arms.”

“Thanks.” He winked.

“Probably looked hot with the bunch of lube too.” 

Seb snorted, nearly choking on his beer.

“Sorry, sorry,” I giggled. “On a serious note, you really are such an amazing talent.” 

I didn’t know why I always fucking rambled so much. Luckily, he just smiled with ease. 

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” He said genuinely. “So, enjoying the party?” he asked, running a hand over his dark hair to smooth it back. It was cut a little shorter now and slicked back, suiting his face just as well as all his other haircuts did. I eyed his nice suit out of the corner of my eye, a black suit paired with a grey dress shirt and a tie with both black and grey. 

A moment later, the bartender handed me my cheap gin and I took a swig, nearly spitting it out in disgust. Cheap gin tasted about as good as it sounded, so frankly, it was gross. This was why I usually drank the fruity shit, but all the fruity drinks here cost more than my fucking Toyota.

“Yeah, I love getting drunk,” I replied dryly.

Sebastian put a comforting hand on my shoulder. His hand was warm and soft and everything I needed right now to get my mind off Chris. I took this as flirting. People touched to flirt and… Was he trying to flirt? With me? I fucking hoped so. I needed a distraction after what I saw with my  _ stupid goddamn son of a bitch fuck buddy. _

“Slow down there,” he laughed and then put his hand back on the table. I missed it, I wanted it to come back. “I just started talking to you and I’d like for you to not be totally smashed.”

I giggled sheepishly as I set the gin down. “Sorry!”

“You know, you're absolutely gorgeous,” he told me very seriously. My face heated up as I thanked him. He was the type to compliment you and not make you feel like he wanted something from you. It was sweet and endearing. 

Sebastian looked around before asking, “So. Where’s Chris? Is he your boyfriend, like the gossip sites say?”

My mouth twisted in a grimace as I thought of him, fucking around with a girl he’d been long caught up on — that's where he was.

“We’re just friends,” I put a smile on my face that felt as tight and tense as I probably looked, sipping on my drink less eagerly than before. 

Friends? More like: Fuck buddies. Roommates. Something else… I don’t know. I wasn’t so sure anymore. Not after seeing him push Minka into a hotel room like that. They’d looked pretty intimate, if you asked me. 

Sebastian looked adorably confused. “Oh? But that's not — ”

The words tumbled out of my mouth like bitter word vomit before I could stop them. “Look, Chris is probably off fucking his ex.”

“Uh oh,” he clicked his tongue, looking at me sympathetically. “You sound jealous.”

“Nah, I don’t really know what’s going on,” I shrugged, playing it off. “I guess that should be my catchphrase.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he said, looking at me solemnly now. “I think you know what’s going on but you don’t want to admit it.”

I swallowed down the gin like I was preparing to swallow down his words. “Whaddya mean?”

“I dunno. I think you and him have something together,” he replied, a shrug paired with a knowing look. 

“Oh?” I lifted an eyebrow delicately as I took in his words. I’d never met him before in my life and he was telling me that I had something with Chris? What the fuck? Did Chris talk to him about me? I realized I should’ve probably asked him that, so I did.

“I think you and him should talk. Seems like you guys haven't been doing that,” Sebastian looked at me meaningfully as if I was just supposed to know what he was going on about. 

I bit my lip, thinking over his words. “What are you trying to say?”

Sebastian smiled just this time, taking another swig of his beer before deflecting, “So, you  _ trying _ to get drunk?”

“Oh, I always am,” I giggled, pushing my thoughts into the back of my mind. Now wasn't the time to care. Not with Chris doing whatever, or whoever for that matter, the fuck he wanted. 

“How old are you again?”

“23,” I answered, wrinkling my nose. 

I hated that question with everything in me. Did I always seem so young and immature? Apparently so, even now, at a big after-party, I was a fucking baby in the industry. I was, wasn't I? Getting lost in some dreamy actor’s eyes and making the mistake of falling too fast, feeling too much. Which left me flat on my ass on the floor when I realized that he simply didn't feel the same. I was so naive. The first actor I worked with and I managed to fuck him, get attached and fucking  _ move _ into his house. Jesus. 

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Sebastian said, taking note of my stricken face. He looked at the dance floor and then back at me with a smirk. “Wanna dance?”

“Oh man, I really can’t dance,” I protested. His face fell slightly and I felt bad. I raised up my glass and added, “Well, maybe after I finish this shitty gin?”

We never did get to dancing but Sebastian and I did end up on a couch in, what he said was, the VIP Section. There were other people surrounding us in this area but it wasn’t quite as loud and a lot less hot. We were wrapped up together cozily, one of his arms around my shoulders and the other is on my knee. 

I wasn't by any means drunk, I’d only had the gin and Sebastian had two beers while with me. I think we were both just enjoying each other’s company and it made me smile at the thought. Sebastian Stan seemed to be enjoying my company. 

He was whispering in Romanian, low in my ear, and I was giggling like a fucking dumbass for no reason. I didn’t even remember why we’d started. I think I’d told him I’d speak in Punjabi if he spoke his language as well. I didn't know what he was saying but he was so fucking hot. If I wasn't sure we were just good friends, I would've hopped on that bilingual dick so fast. 

“Your laugh is adorable,” he said in English. It took me a moment to reply, both because he was just speaking another language and because I was giddy being around someone so sweet without trying. 

“Thank you, Seb,” I smiled up at him, a little dazed. “You’ve been giving me so many compliments.”

“You deserve them,” Sebastian replied confidently in my ear and I laughed. After a moment’s pause, he leaned in closer. He took his hand from my knee and brushed my hair away from my face, a small smirk gracing his lips.

I stilled for a split second, wondering if he was going to kiss me right here. Don't judge me, your insides would’ve probably been reduced to the same jelly that mine were.

“Chris needs to—“ Sebastian started to speak but heard his name being called. His smile brightened even more as he looked behind me, “Hey! I haven’t seen you all night, man!”

Fuck. I was a little slow on the uptake, who was it that ruined my moment? 

“ _ Dude _ , I was looking for you!” Chris’ voice boomed, his body bouncing excitedly before seeing me curled up in Sebastian’s arms. He faltered, his body stiffening, “Simran, what’s up?”

“Sim’s tired from all that dancing we didn't get to do,” Sebastian mocked me but I swatted his arm as I detangled myself from him. I felt completely awkward with Chris there. “Look at her, she’s so cute and cuddly!”

“She is,” Chris agreed with a tight smile, taking up the empty seat next to me on the loveseat. I was now squished between the two actors and while I had many wet dreams about this, they were never as tension filled as it felt right now. 

I laughed a bit breathlessly as Sebastian kissed my cheek and got up. I, thankfully, hadn’t been squished for long. He politely asked me, “Want anything to drink then?”

“No, thanks,” I replied, scooting away from Chris slightly. I could feel his eyes on me and I couldn’t meet his gaze. I didn’t know why, it wasn’t like I did anything wrong. I wasn't the one who probably fucked someone in the same hotel as their super huge, hit movie’s after-party. 

Once Sebastian was out of sight, I sighed quietly to myself. Chris took a swig of his beer and looked back at me almost accusingly, “You gonna fuck Sebastian?”

How dare he? He was probably just out of freshly fucking his ex (or did that relationship status change?) while Sebastian and I were innocently flirting. The guy didn’t even seem all that into me, especially because he kept mentioning Chris to me and asking about our shitty situation. 

Not that I shut up about him anyway. While we were together, I talked about all the times  _ Chris _ and I got drunk or dancing with  _ Chris _ and how  _ Chris _ would move his hips a certain way or how  _ Chris _ and I did this and that—blah blah blah. I was probably such a bore to Sebastian.

“That’s not any of your business,” I replied in a brisk manner. 

“No, I guess it's not,” he said curtly, a flash of emotion I couldn't put my finger on showed on his face and then he stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off his dress pants. “Our deal and all that bullshit? It's off.”

“What?” Panic set out from my heart and lodged itself in my throat. Even if he had slept with Minka… I didn't want to stop being whatever it was that we were. I didn't know why but I just couldn't bring myself to stop. 

Chris ignored my question, the corners of his mouth pointing downwards and the wrinkles on his forehead making him look years older than he was. “Have a fun night, Simran. You're free.”

I opened my mouth to yell at him, to ask him why he was an asshole and why he was such a fucking hypocrite but nothing came out. I was forced to watch him leave, in silence. 

Seb saw my mood fall after that when he came back with another beer. “Hey, where'd Chris go?” 

I was silent, averting my eyes so he couldn't see how tear-filled they were. I felt so upset… I didn't even know what just happened because it was done in a flash. He watched me quietly and then finally spoke again. 

“Do you wanna get going? I can give you a ride, my driver’s ready to leave whenever,” he said, rubbing a comforting hand over my back in a way that I now read as friendly instead of flirting. He’d just been friendly the whole night, being kind and nice and even offering to give me a ride home. 

“I…” I felt my face heat up at the crack in my voice and tried again. “I think… That would be nice.”

“Okay, give me a few minutes and we can get going,” he smiled at me, comfort coming through the facial expression immediately. 

I relaxed against him, tears stinging my eyes more insistently at the realization that Chris had just left me. At this after-party. With no one I knew. Sebastian was too kind, offering me a ride and making sure I got home safe. He didn't even want to fuck me, which was frankly strange because I was fairly certain he was single and he’d only been around me for the majority of the night. Maybe I'd gotten so unsexy all of the sudden and that's why Chris wanted to have sex with Minka instead and why Sebastian hadn't even thought of sleeping with me. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “You can talk to me. About Chris, you know.”

“I've been talking about him all night,” I mumbled a bit sheepishly. 

“That's okay,” he said in a cool, neutral tone that I could tell was because he knew more than I did. Didn't that seem to be a recurring theme? “You care a lot about him, right?"

“Well, of course I do,” I shrugged. “He's one of my best friends.”

“Aha,” Seb nodded casually, before glancing down at his phone. “Car’s here.”

He held my hand to lead me out through the crowds of people, but it felt nothing like how it was when Chris did that. It felt like if Marc or Char held my hand— nice but not electrically charged. 

I felt exhausted, with lead in my stomach and a throbbing pain in my head. The worst was that my heart felt heavy and sad and like it was breaking into a million pieces. I didn't even know why. Not really, anyway. 

The car ride was quiet, we sat comfortably in the SUV and talked about the stars we couldn't see from the city’s smog. It didn't compare to when Chris and I spoke of astronomy and space and how vast everything was and how small we felt. I tried to tell myself to stop comparing everything I did with Seb to everything I felt with Chris but it was hard. I missed him even though he'd only been gone for a couple of hours. It felt like he'd been gone for years, like he was gone forever. 

We got to my — Chris’ house in a timely manner and Sebastian asked for my phone to put his number in, a promise of “If you're ever in town when I am, let's grab lunch” that people in Hollywood often said, except it was more sincere because it was Sebastian Stan. He gave me one last innocent kiss on the cheek and finally bid me goodnight. 

The house was empty with the girls visiting my parents and Chris obviously not back yet. I allowed a few stray tears fall as I made my trek up the stairs but I stopped my crying, telling myself to get over it. Whatever “it” was. I didn't even know. I was just so confused and sad and hurt and I just wanted to sleep. 

Unfortunately, sleep didn't come easy to me when I was alone in my bedroom. It was a simple room, a place to sleep sometimes when I felt like I was sleeping with Chris too often. I didn't put up all the posters I used to have, but there were little things that made it clear the room belonged to me. 

My makeup was all out and open on the desk, the palette Chris had given me for Christmas front and center. My movies were on the floor in in front of the TV, in separate piles and each pile for either a good day, bad day, when I wanted to cry, to laugh, to gasp or if I ever (I had, countless times) wanted to marathon Bollywood movies. My clothes were in the closet, though not neatly, and my laptop was next to me, resting on top of my maroon bed sheets, ready for use at any time. The room seemed cluttered, but I think it was accurate. I was a cluttered type of person, so it represented me quite well, and I accepted it. 

The Office was on in the background, an old episode because I couldn't bring myself to watch an episode Chris hadn't seen yet. I was laying around in a baggy T shirt that fell to my knees and no trace of makeup to be found when I heard him come home.

I heard the door open and slam shut, his dress shoes hitting the stairs quickly and then the door to his room opening and closing. I was guessing that he didn't need me to crawl into bed with him since he'd probably already had his fill with Minka.

However, minutes later, he slowly opened the door to my room. He was dressed in dark blue sweatpants and a white T shirt, looking tired as shit.  Made sense that he would've been, from all the sex and fun he'd been having. I mean, it was past two in the morning, so I was sure I looked tired too. 

He took one critical look at me and then said, “Can you not leave your fucking shoes laying around my house? I hate looking like a jackass, tripping over them all the time.”

“You look like a jackass anyway,” I snarked, not daring to move from my comfy spot. “Sorry I'm such a shit guest in  _ your _ house, Chris, I guess I've just lost all my manners.”

“You seemed pretty fuckin’ polite with Sebastian, so I don't know why you've lost them all of the sudden,” he said before making a show of looking around. He actually got on his knees to look under my bed before finally raised a distinct eyebrow at me. “Where the fuck is he? He hidin’ in one of our coat closets?” 

I gaped at him for a moment. “Oh, so it's  _ our _ coat closet now?”

“Where the fuck is Sebastian?”

“What?” I scrambled to sit up from the comfortable position to confront him. “He left after dropping me off, you ass!”

“Ah. How  _ sweet _ of him.” Chris stood up and turned towards the TV, the bright colors illuminating his frown.

“Yeah, it's real sweet of him since you just fucking left me.”

“I didn't fucking leave you! I'm just not glued to your side like Sebastian is!”

“Oh, please, I don't give you my attention for an hour and you’re up some other girl’s skirt!” I shook my head, standing up to brush past him and turn off the TV. “Can you get the fuck out of my room, now please?”

“It's my fuckin’ house, Simran, I'll leave when I want to.”

“Son of a bitch,” I swore under my breath, turning back around to face him. “You know what? Fuck off with the Seb bullshit, he's a sweetheart and brought me home in one piece."

“When the fuck did he become  _ Seb _ to you?” 

“That's what you're focusing on?” I scoffed incredulously. “Typical. You're ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?”

“Yeah, what gives you the right to act like this after you ditch me?”

“You know,  _ you _ ditched  _ me _ first.”

“That's not the same thing,” I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. “I can't be seen with you too often, the paps would never fucking hop off your dick, or  _ mine _ , for that matter!”

“Oh sure,” he nodded, bobbing his head sarcastically. “That's why you hung onto the second fuckin’ lead’s arm like it was your goddamn job.”

“Just fucking say what you actually mean, Chris! You act like I’m supposed to know what's in your goddamn head all the time.  _ Newsflash _ , I don't even know what's in mine!”

“What's going in my goddamn head is that I don't like you two together!”

I couldn't believe my ears. He had the audacity to say that he was upset over Seb and me. “I don't  _ care _ ! You're not the fucking boss of me!” 

“You're the one who wanted me to say what I meant!”

“Yeah, well, what you meant was bullshit because I can do whatever the fuck I want. In case you've forgotten,  _ you're _ the one who informed my dad of that very fact, Christopher.”

Chris looked red with rage, nostrils flaring and eyebrows furrowed. “You're just throwing words back at me now? Yes, I did say that, so the fuck what?”

“So, with all due respect,” I shot back the exact words he'd say to my dad. “You fail to realize I’m my own damn  _ person _ .”

He scoffed, bewildered. “Don't fucking do that. Don't fucking compare me to your father.”

“If the shoe  _ fits _ !”

“You're just changing the goddamn subject, this is so fucking childish. Let's get back to the heart of the problem, shall we?” Chris hissed, “You were acting all desperate for him, basically on top of him in that VIP room. All over him the  _ second _ I was gone.”

“Who cares if I was?”

“I do!” he yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I care!”

“Do you?” I challenged him. “Because you're the one saying this deal is off.”

“It's been all about the deal to you, Simran,” he shook his head, eyes ablaze as he yelled. “But that's not the fucking point!”

“So what's the point, Christopher? I'm confused!”

“Sebastian’s a fuckin’ flirt and you were just eatin’ that shit up. You just fucking loved it — ”

Throughout this entire argument, I’d rarely gotten the chance to bring up  _ Minka _ and what they were  _ doing _ and what I  _ saw _ about Chris being a  _ hypocrite _ because said hypocrite wouldn't shut the fuck up. 

Until finally, I just cut him off and said, “Maybe I fucking did, Chris. Or maybe  _ I _ wanted attention from someone else, but he was too busy fucking his ex in some swanky hotel room.”

He paused, carefully. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

I forced the word out as if it was poison, “Minka.”

“How — ” He stopped a foot away from my bed, frozen as he looked at me for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Gulping, he licked his lips and tried to speak again, “You saw that?”

I laughed humorlessly, feeling the hollow hole in my chest get bigger as I realized he didn't deny it or even try to explain. “Of course I fucking saw that. You guys didn't even  _ try _ to be subtle. Your mouths were practically stuck together.”

“I… I really didn't know expect her to be there. She got on the list and I don't know how.” He had the decency to look uneasy before his eyes turned hard again. “Surprised you even noticed me gone with the way you were going gaga for Sebastian.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing very well that I talked to Sebastian after seeing Chris in the arms of someone else. Whatever he wanted to think, he could. It was my business, my choice, my  _ life _ . Not his. He had his own life, to spend with whoever he wanted. Clearly not with me. And that made me so angry, for some reason. 

“You just had to scratch that itch, right? For old time’s sake?” I sneered. “What, was I getting too  _ boring _ for you? Was I just the placeholder until good ol’ Minka finally came back around and said ‘Yes, please Chris, I've seen the error of my ways! You were right, let’s get married and have beautiful, model babies!’ Is  _ that _ what you were waiting for?”

“You don't know anything.”

“Yeah? I think I know enough.”

“Oh you think you know enough?” Chris asked, rhetorically. “You don't know shit. About me, about how I feel, about fucking anything!” he hissed, his hands coming up to my upper arms and grasping them. It was a near painful grip but I knew he was being careful, his breaths to calm himself down were apparent and his jaw was clenched to restrain himself.    
  
He always held back with what he'd say and what he'd do, his body language stilted and his words caught in his throat. Just like he was doing right now. I didn't want that. I wanted him unhinged. I wanted the raw emotion out of him, I wanted to see that Chris come to fucking light so I knew I wasn't just seeing the shadow of him. I wanted him to tell me what the fuck he was feeling so I knew and I didn't feel like the asshole who couldn't tell what he was saying.    
  
"Maybe if you used your words and didn't have your tongue caught in Minka's throat, you could explain yourself better," I growled.   
  
He grit his teeth, snarling, "Fuck you." His breathing was heavy, emphasis on each syllable so I heard him loud and clear. "Fuck you for being the just like every other naive, insecure, pretentious bitch out here with nothing more than daddy issues and a sick need to twist people like me in all your petty shit. Fuck you. Maybe I fucked Minka cause she doesn't come with so much goddamn baggage."

“No. Fuck  _ you _ ,” my voice was trembling but I never felt more grounded. “Fuck  _ you _ for being nothing more than an manipulative prick who has some fucking creepy need to take care of 'insecure naive bitches' like me to fill a void in your ego. Fuck you, Chris. I'm leaving—"

One minute, we were fighting with bared teeth and flaring nostrils. The next, he cut off whatever I was going to say, pouring all his frustrations into a bruising kiss. I froze against him, but he kept his lips moving until I kissed back with just as much vigor.

Finally pulling away, he removed his shirt and then mine before quickly grasping the panties I had on and ripping them off of my body. I gaped at him but he didn't acknowledge the fact that he literally tore my underwear, so I slipped down his sweatpants and boxer briefs (trying to rip them off like a fucking idiot but obviously not succeeding) and instead he step out of them. 

It was all so fast, it was dizzying and confusing but I just couldn't bring myself to care in that moment. 

“C’mere,” He said, pulling me closer to him again and leaning down for another kiss. The anger and jealousy I felt made me rougher than normal, so I pushed against his chest until his knees knocked against the bed and he fell backwards in surprise. He recovered quickly, sitting up against the headboard and impatiently manhandling me to straddle him. 

We were nose to nose, chest to chest and we were so close to each other that I couldn't tell if I was breathing air in or him. 

He broke the trance, sarcasm apparent in his tone as his fingers found my wet folds, “Who got you this wet?  _ Sebastian _ ?”

“Shut up,” I growled, digging my fingernails into his shoulder blades and making him shiver beneath me. “Do you like that? My nails on your back?”

He moved to grab handfuls of my ass, rubbing my clit against him but not penetrating me just yet. As he sucked a mark on my collarbone, I felt a hard smack on my ass that made me cry out. Pulling back only slightly, he murmured against my neck, “You like being a bad girl?”

“I’m not,” I sneered, but my voice shaky and my hands clutching onto his shoulders for dear life. “Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me like I'm your good girl." 

"Good girl?" He scoffed, biting below my ear in a spot he knew made me gasp. "No. You've been the furthest thing from a good girl tonight."    
  
"You're one to fucking talk. What are you gonna do? Spank me? Does Minka like it when you spank her? Does she moan like me? Get you hard like me?"    
  
"Shut the fuck up,” He snarled back at me, his teeth nipping at my jawline and hands gripping my hips and ass hard enough that I knew bruises would be there in the morning.   
  
"Fuck me  _ hard _ , Chris. I know you want to."   


“Don't tell me what I want,” he replied bitterly, but when our lips met, our teeth clacked together with the force of the kiss. His tongue invaded my mouth, soft but domineering, gentle but commanding. It was difficult to remain coherent with the heat surrounding us. 

The anger fueled us, tension so thick in the air that I could feel it between us but I was ignoring it and so was he. This was the first time we’d ever really argued, the first time we’d said what was actually on our minds and told each other how we’d felt. It was just jealousy, it was just me being stupid and possessive but so was he. He was being an idiot too, and he slept with Minka, I know he did. Yet, here I was trying to prove to myself that I could give him what he needed to. If he wanted mind-blowing sex, I could give it to him. I could give him anything she gave him. Or, at least, I told myself I could.

There was a desperate edge to his kiss, like he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be allowed this again and was determined to take what he could. I felt the same, like this could possibly be the last time that we would do this. The hole in my chest deepened, the empty feeling settling in and making me feel like I couldn't breathe. 

This was moving too quickly but I was so scared that we’d stop at any minute and I didn’t want to. I leaned back up on my knees, grasping his cock and rubbing the head against my wetness. We gasped into each other’s mouths at the feeling of one another, he held me positioned above him. 

His eyes were dark and angry when he said in a gravelly tone, “Gonna fuck you so deep, you can’t even walk without remembering me.”

“Listen, who’s on top of who right now?” I snorted. “I’m the one doing the fucking.”

“Dunno about that,” he grunted and then sunk me down on him in one fluid motion. Whatever reply I had was caught in my throat as he was completely sheathed. The feeling of him filling me up was too much, I couldn’t focus on anything else. When I slowly bottomed out, I could feel every ridge and vein of his cock unbearably deep in me.

I moved my hips in a few ways, trying to find a nice rhythm despite the height difference causing minor difficulties. Apparently I was doing well enough that he closed his eyes in pleasure, leaning his head back against the headboard with his mouth hanging open. My voice was breathy when I asked, “Am I as good as she was?”

He opened his eyes and regarded me for a moment, a frown of concentration on his face. The his hand came down quick as lightning on my ass, smacking it raw with only one forceful hit. “Can you  _ try _ to be my good girl?”

I mewled, giving no reply as I tightly gripped his shoulders. His lips assaulting my neck while I sucked his ear in mouth and pulled back his hair. He thrusted into me roughly, making me moan embarrassingly loud.

"God, look at you,” he rasped, looking absolutely fucked even though we’d just gotten started. “Sittin' so pretty on my dick, you think you’d look this good on top of Seb?”

He leaned down to take a nipple in his mouth, biting gently enough to cause me to stutter, “No sir, I wouldn't.”

“This isn't the time to be kinky, I'm still fuckin’ pissed,” he said in a low voice as I bounced myself up and down on him. 

“You're the one spanking me,” I rolled my eyes, though I'm sure the effect was lost with my slight moans. A sharp pain from another smack to the ass made me hiss, “You're an asshole.”

“I’m  _ your _ asshole though,” He hummed, rutting up against me at the same time I slammed myself down. 

I stayed quiet, focusing on getting myself to come instead of thinking of the ramifications of his words. He wasn't mine. I wasn't his. And that was the problem, wasn't it?  Chris, however, either didn't seem to realize the problem or didn't want to acknowledge it just yet. 

Instead, he opted for breathy words in my ear, a sure way to spark a fire in my belly. “No one else is gonna make you feel this good, huh? You're not gonna moan like this for anyone else, right baby?"

I shook my head as I rocked my hips up and down with abandon. He knotted one hand in my hair and the other wrapped around my waist, mouthing at my breasts until the skin was red from his beard. 

He came up to face me again, nose to nose, his quick puffs of breath against my face. “Who else makes you feel this way?”

“No one else,” I gasped right as the head of his cock hit my g-spot. 

“That's right, no one else. Just me,” he said huskily, desperation coloring his words.

I felt my face heat up but anger still coursed through me like a hurricane. Even if no one else made me feel this way, he'd just been with someone else. Someone who'd probably given him exactly what he needed. So, why was I even here? 

“Stop thinking,” Chris ordered me, keeping eye contact with me as my pace faltered slightly. He took control of my hips, easing me down on him at the speed he wanted. “Just fucking feel me.”

I whimpered as he gave my ass another hard squeeze and firm slap. I raked my nails up his back as he moaned harder, thrusting up into me faster. His teeth nipped at my neck, sucking and making small bite marks on the sensitive skin with his beard scraping against me. 

His fingers slid down to press against my clit as he still mercilessly teased my g-spot, slamming into me with every ounce of strength he had that I felt like I was teetering on the edge. The rough fucking was something we’d just recently started doing but it was clearly what we were best at. 

“God, you love doing this, don't you?” he asked gruffly as he fucked upwards, deeper into me. “Bouncing on my cock like it's yours, like it's just for you?”

Instead of answering, I pulled back on his hair and bit down on his ear, tugging on it with my teeth. His ears were sensitive and I wanted to tease him as mercilessly as he teased me. 

His hand came down to spank me once more, making me jump in his arms. I squeaked, “ _ Fuck _ .”

“You gonna come for me now?” he rumbled, more command than question in his voice.

He knew when I was about to come, all the telltale signs were there. The shaking, erratic rhythm I’d built up that made me close my eyes in sheer pleasure. My breathy moans and barely finished words were another sign, he'd gotten me a lot more vocal than I used to be but whenever I was about to coming, I got quieter.

As if on cue, I felt the beginnings of my orgasm take over, colors dancing in front of my eyes and the dizzying pleasure overtaking me. He shook beneath me, feeling me squeeze him tightly, and I could feel him thrusting more recklessly going after his own release. 

When I came, almost silently this time, my insides felt like molten lava. I collapsed into his arms, feeling like the world had just came crashing down on me. But soon, the molten lava turned to rock weighing down in my stomach, reminding me of the events of today and not giving me a moment’s rest. 

In the aftermath, I was fairly out of it as I let him lay me on the bed and get up to go off somewhere. He came back with a washcloth, cleaning both of us up and then settling me into the covers of his warm bed. I felt less empty with his arms safely around me and I was slowly drifting off. It’d been a long few weeks and this time, the sex had felt strangely cathartic. I almost felt like I could cry but instead, I just wanted sleep it off.

I could faintly hear Chris whispering something, doing my best not to fall into the deep sleep I so desperately wanted to if he wanted to talk. He whispered again, this time his breath hit my forehead and I felt a small drop of liquid on my skin. Furrowing my brows, I tried to stay awake and lucid.

This time, I really listened to hear him and felt his shaky exhale on my temple. His voice was breathless, barely there. " _ I love you _ .”

I stiffened in his arms, my eyes popping open. "You have got to me shitting me."

I’d constantly had thoughts, wondered if Chris ever wanted more or not. But those ideas had been thrown away when I saw him and Minka. And now he was saying this? After I just angry fucked the shit out of him? I was, to put it simply, confused as hell and pretty pissed.

The problem was, this was not how I was supposed to feel. I was supposed to feel light, like golden rays of sunshine were bursting through me. I was supposed to feel like I was floating on a cloud, without a care in the world other than his declaration. I was supposed to feel  _ happy _ . 

But I wasn't feeling any of those things. I felt overwhelmed and weak and frozen in place. 

"I'm — Uh? You're fucking awake? Holy shit," his voice was thick with emotion, probably from the crying. I probably should've asked about the crying too but I couldn't focus very much, I was disoriented and angry. 

"What the  _ fuck _ , Christopher?" I demanded, though I wasn't quite sure what I was demanding. I swatted his hands off of me, detangling myself from his arms and sitting up in the bed.

"I, uh, fuck. I thought you were asleep."

"We established that," I gritted my teeth, bunching the sheet around me to hide my body as though it wasn't something he had already seen, kissed and sucked at countless times. "What the fuck was that? That… Bullshit you just said?"

He leaned up on his elbows, his hair ruined and his abdomen revealed from my sheet stealing. He slowly let out a breath and said the shit that ruined everything, his voice impossibly soft and his eyes brighter than I'd ever seen them before. "I love you. I've been in love with you for... Ever. I know it took me forever to say but I just... I love you."

I scoffed, getting out of bed and rolling his words off my back as I replayed how the night had gone. "Now I'm really confused, Chris. Was that before or after you fucked Minka?"

"What?"

"Shit,” I changed my tone of voice, now angry and taunting. I opened my underwear drawer and slipped on a new pair of panties. Then I turned back to him, arms crossed over my heaving, bare chest and a frown on my face. “Did I ride you that good that you forgot about Minka?”

I barked out a laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob. Why was he picking now to tell me? He couldn't have done it earlier when my entire life wasn't going to hell? Before he probably had sex with his ex? Was this some post-orgasmic haze that was going to drop in a second? 

He tensed, worried eyes looking over me, as I grabbed an old Disney World sweatshirt from my closet that I realized too late was his. “Simran, really. It wasn't what it looked li-”

I rummaged through my drawer for pajama shorts and socks, hastily putting them on and my Converse as I spoke. “I saw you guys going into the goddamn hotel room, you couldn't keep your hands off of each other. As if  _ that _ isn't obvious enough.”

“Well, we just…” He swallowed, averting his gaze. I heard him sigh and get up but I didn't turn to look at him, ignoring all of his following words. I didn't want to hear the dirty details. Instead, I bound out of the room and down the stairs, trying to get my purse and keys left on the dinner table. 

He followed me down. Of course he did, I couldn't expect any less of him. But I couldn't even look at him with his puppy dog eyes and furrowed brows and shaking voice. My keys were in clutched in my hand and I felt weak at merely the sight of him. 

“Simran, please, just let me — ” he caught the crook of my elbow, trying to ease me into a hug and I melted unwillingly against his warm chest. I felt so overwhelmed. I couldn't handle all this bullshit in one night. 

I should have realized that this was a long time coming — this had been building up for a while now. Before I could stop them, tears were coming out. Chris had only taken the time to slip on his boxers, so he could feel them on his bare chest. He pulled back, holding my face so tenderly in his hands I could hear my own heart break.

“Why are you crying?” he ran his thumbs over my cheekbones, catching the tears. “Why are you crying, baby? It's okay.”

“Don't call me that,” I sniffled, batting his hands away. 

“You're bleeding, baby,” Chris sighed sadly, bringing his hand up to touch my face. It was then that I realized I'd been chewing on my bottom lip enough to draw blood again. The metallic taste in my mouth became alarmingly apparent.

I flinched and backed away, bringing my back to the wall. “I said.  _ Don't _ call me that. I'm freaking out and I don't even know what we are anymore and now I'm bleeding and you're just confusing me!”

“Sim,” he paused, his face pinching in sadness. “Please,  _ you _ can tell  _ me _ what we are.”

“I know we're friends,” I licked my bottom lip and winced at the taste. “And I guess, other stuff, but it's all fuzzy and I don't know.”

"Okay." Chris said, nodding and pinching the bridge of his nose. He had a look of defeat on his face, but swallowed nonetheless and said, "Okay. We don't have to define it, if you don't want to... That's..." He sighed, "That's fine."

"'Don't have to define it' That's a fat load of shit. Like that did any good the last time!" I croaked out, my voice tired from all the yelling and fighting. “You can't say you don't want to define it when you profess your fucking love for me!” 

He winced slightly. “Yes, that's… True. I guess I can't do that. I wanted to try, at least.”

“Try  _ what _ ?”

“I know… I know you're scared. Of defining it,” he said slowly. “You have commitment issues and I get that, I do. I was young once too — ”

“And here comes the age old bullshit about me being young,” I rolled my eyes sharply. 

He clenched his jaw. “It's fucking true. I remember what it's like, being young and having sex and all the fun I had. And Marc, he told me I was the first guy to even fucking make you  _ come _ , so that's — ”

“That was not within Marc’s right to say! And it's not your right to act like you know what's best for me!” I snapped. 

“I'm just trying to explain myself, Sim.” 

We stood silently for a minute, regarding each other and trying to get our breathing even. 

“I… I told myself, ‘She’s getting what she wants’,” he chuckled finally, but there was no joy in it. “I convinced myself that having sex with you was enough. I mean, at least I got to fuck you and no one else could.”

“But?” I whispered, watching his face silently. 

Chris rolled his eyes, tears welling up as he shook his head. “I’m so fucking stupid. I thought… I thought I could do this. I  _ told _ myself I could do whatever casual thing you wanted, because that’s what  _ you _ wanted,” he sniffled. "But I don’t want that. I want more. I’ve always wanted more."

“Oh.” My throat closed up, I didn't know what the fuck to say. It was just like me, stupid old Simran, to ramble and ramble and ramble but the moment something important came up, I couldn't fucking bring myself to speak. 

He swallowed thickly, looking at me with hesitance. “I know that I shouldn’t. But I do. I want more with you.”

But my anger flared up again, because he certainly didn't want me a few hours ago. “Well, I’m still confused. Because you fucked a girl and came back to where we live together and fucked me too. So, that’s not really ‘wanting more’ now, is it?”

“I didn’t — I didn't  _ sleep with _ her,” he protested weakly. “We —  I almost — But she stopped me.”   


“ _ She _ stopped you? That sounds promising,” I shook my head, closing my eyes briefly so that he couldn’t see the tears forming. 

“I was pissed and upset, I wanted to lash out and hurt you, so I said I fucked her,” he admitted quietly. It was strange how just a few words could shatter my heart into a million pieces. 

“You wanted to  _ hurt _ me?” I said slowly. “What better way to hurt me than to fuck her?”

“But I didn't, I don't — ”

“I can't trust you,” I said flatly, interrupting whatever explanation he had. I knew if he kept talking and looking at me with those pained eyes, I’d give in and listen, just go to bed with him and forget about it all like we alway did.  _ Ignore _ it, like we always did. 

“No, Sim, sweetheart,” he whispered, stopping short at the pet name, “Please listen, I was just... I was just so tired and desperate and I felt like I was losing you — ”

“Losing me? You've never had me, Chris.”

He looked as if I’d just punched him in the gut. “You're leaving.”

“I need to.” 

“It's late,” he said, his eyes pleading with me. “Please don't go.”

I was shaking and crying like a fucking idiot. I couldn't stay here, there was no possible way I could be here right now. I felt claustrophobic, I felt completely trapped. It was like everything was closing in on me and I couldn’t breathe. I needed to leave immediately and there was no way out other than the door Chris was currently blocking.  

I brushed past him with a heavy heart. “I'm sorry.” 

And then I did what I always did under intense, emotional stress— I ran like a fucking coward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Comments are appreciated and make me write faster!


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

I was going to call him.

I was.

My sweaty palms could attest to the fact I had been holding my phone in my hand for what seemed like ages, trying to muster the courage and will it was going to take to call him. 

Blinking rapidly, I tore my eyes away from the phone screen and gave myself a moment of rest, choosing to glare at the wall in front of me instead.

I had crashed Char’s place last night, and though it wasn't  _ too _ inconvenient since she had an extra room, I still showed up without warning at around 2 AM. It was unfair to her, me bursting through her door with tears streaming down my face and sobbing about how she was right about everything.

She'd taken it all in stride, calmly sitting me down and asking me immediately, “Why the fuck do you have a hickey the size of a golf ball on your neck? You look like you got attacked by vacuum.”

I told her everything. Everything from the moment Chris and I had been mad at each other but refused to talk about it, the after party,  _ Minka _ , our intense, anger-filled sex and, let's not forget, the fucking love declaration that followed.

Char was patient and understanding throughout the whole talk, and when she began offering her words of comfort, apart from the blatant “I told you so” she threw in after every other sentence, she still managed to calm me down.

But  _ I _ didn't know what to do. How to feel, or think, or act. I was confused as all hell. I didn't know why I was so mad when Chris and I had never actually been exclusive. I didn't know why he told me he  _ loved _ me after he'd just slept with Minka. I didn't even know why I’d had sex with him after that. I didn't know anything. All I knew was that I was frustrated and tired of not knowing, of being so fucking oblivious to just about everything.

If Char and Marc and Scott and Archie and everyone on this fucking planet, including my parents, for Christ’s sake, could see that maybe there had been something more between Chris and I, what reason was there for me being so blind? Why couldn't I see it coming? Was I just that stupid? That oblivious? Or did I fool myself into thinking it would all be fine despite the gut feeling that it wouldn't be?

I’d expressed these feelings to Char, who shook her head in pity and said, “You must be exhausted. You've had a long day, get to bed and we’ll figure out what to do in the morning.”

My tired ass listened because frankly, I was drained. I slipped into the covers, ignoring the feeling in the pit of my stomach that reminded me this wasn't my bed, this wasn't Chris’ bed. With one last protest from my reeling mind urging me to figure out what the fuck to do, I pushed it away and drifted into a rough sleep.

The next morning, however, we'd somehow made the choice to go visit my mother at the hospital. And it was Char who'd decided that I should ask my mom where to go next. I didn't know what to make of this. My relationship with my mother was never one that discussed this kind of thing and I was sure it never would be. So, you could imagine my surprise when she apparently had a lot to say on the subject.

“Hare Shivaji, when did my daughter turn into such an idiot? What karma is this, her past life could not have been  _ this _ awful!” was the first thing out of her mouth, the moment after I had finished explaining what had happened the night before. Except it was in Punjabi and the English translation made it sound a lot less mean.

“What?! Ma!” I sent her a reproachful look as she rolled her eyes. “Don't roll your eyes at me!”

“It seems we've switched roles,” my mother said playfully, mischief written on her worn face despite the situation at hand. “I remember telling you as a little girl not to do that.”

“ _ Mom _ .” I tried to seem stern but the smile on my mother's face caused a giggle to escape from me.

Despite all the shit going on, I couldn't help but feel a bit of relief that at least I had my mom now. For the time being anyway. And she was finally… A mom. She was finally the mom I’d always heard about from other people or seen on TV. She was allowing herself to talk to me and to give me advice.

Back when I was young, the closest we’d ever gotten to sharing feelings was when she would teach me to make rotis and various Indian dishes with her. Now she was here, listening to me about how my life went upside down after my fuck buddy told me he loved me but I'd seen him with another girl. Of course, all told to her in a PG manner. My mom was more open now and more accepting but I certainly didn't want to elaborate on the actual parameters of my relationship with Chris. I was stupid but I wasn't  _ that _ dumb.

My mom’s voice shocked me out of my thoughts. “Simran, putar, I want you to listen to me.”

I chewed on my bottom lip, worriedly. “I'm listening.”

“I know you do not like the upbringing your father and I gave you. I understand that it was not the best. But your father and I, we trusted you. We still trust you. You are intelligent, I know you will make the right decision.”

“Decision? What decision will I have to make?” I furrowed my brow, focusing on a stray hair on my mother’s pillow instead of looking at her.

“Talk to Chris or not. Forgive me, and your father, or not. Accept what is in your heart or not.”

I swallowed. “Sounds like a lot of decisions to make.”

“Life is all decisions. But you understand that you need to make a few decisions right now.”

“Yes, I see that.”

“Putar, I know you will choose what is best for you. I trust you to be smart and safe and settled, as I raised you to be.”

“I hope I can be,” I said shakily. My mind raced with all the consequences that could follow. I sighed, “You really think I'll make a good decision?”

“You are my child, I will support you through any decision you make.” My mother looked impossibly tired in that moment but her eyes held a tenderness I hadn't seen in a long time. A hand from her lap made its way across the bed to rest on top of my hand, the warmth blanketing it in a way I hadn't felt from my mother in probably two decades.

There was a brief pause of silence before my father bustled through the door unapologetically. “Charlotte is waiting in the lobby for you, Simran, you shouldn't keep her waiting for so long.”

I stiffened, closing my eyes and feeling the weight of my mother's frail hand on top of mine. “Right, she shouldn't have to wait for me.”

“Archie and Maya are in the car waiting for me,” my dad informed us both. “I was only here to check with the doctors about your results.”

My mother tried to laugh, but it sounded like a cough and a sob. ”Which are less than enthusiastic.”

“Durga, they are… As expected.”

“Yes and yet, I’ve never felt more alive,” my mother raised an eyebrow teasingly. 

Whenever there was hospital talk or any topic close to my mother’s condition, I felt the need to leave immediately. Especially when my father was involved. So I stood up quickly from my seat at the edge of the hospital bed, grabbing my bag from the ground. “Okay, I guess I should be going.”

“Goodbye putar, and remember what I said,” my mother placed a gentle kiss on my cheek and spoke softly. “You'll do what is good for you and that is all that matters.”

“Thanks, mom,” I nodded, my voice breaking as I embraced her as best I could. Is this what a mother was supposed to do? Give advice? Guide? Support? Why was I getting all this so late? Why was this happening when we had little time left together? I took this moment and smiled at her, saying what I can’t remember saying since my high school graduation night. “I love you.”

“I love you too, putar. Now go,” she replied, then lowered her voice as she glanced at my father waiting by the door. “Smart, safe and settled, focus on that.”

I bid my father a quick goodbye and wave, but as I swung open the room door and walked out as swiftly as possible, he followed. “Simran—”

I inwardly groaned. Fuck. What the fuck did he want?

“I have been thinking,” my father said, too quick for me to slip out like I’d wanted to. “About our living arrangements.”

I grunted in acknowledgement, not knowing where he was going with this. He needed to fucking hurry up and get to the point. We stood in the middle of the hospital hallway and I crossed my arms impatiently.

“I think it'd be nice if we all lived together again,” he said and my blood felt like it froze in my veins. “Don't you think?”

I raised my eyebrows, looking at him questioningly. “Aren't you living in India?”

“I can move back here, permanently. I know I cannot uproot you girls and take you there, I am willing to be in America with you all.”

“But you're in a hotel right now. How is that a living space?”

“I still own the house in Arizona,” He replied as if he knew that was exactly what I would bring up.

My mouth felt dry so I swallowed. “Oh.”

“I've already mentioned it to the kids, they seem ready to go.”

“Do they?”

“Yes, they miss all their friends and they say they can get right to packing. We can stop by… By the home you're at and get what we need.”

“At the house? I've only been there for a little while,” I shook my head, trying not to feel so overwhelmed. “This is such short notice.”

"I understand but I'd much rather you all live with me than that sugar papa you have."

"Father," I breathed in deeply, trying to remain calm. "The phrase is sugar  _ daddy _ . And how do you even know what that is?"

"I have the Internet, okay? I know how to use Bing."

"First off, use Google."

“Okay, Simran, please understand,” my father said, patting a hand over my barely shaking shoulder. “Putar, it is what your mother wants as well.”

“I know,” I nodded, gulping. “I know she wants me to be smart and safe and settled. But it's all… So fast. And I still have my career.”

My father’s face pinched in annoyance. “Acting? Modeling? Where will these get you?”

“I chose this profession. I have two movies to film this year, a few premieres to make an appearance at, H&M still wants me modeling and my contract says I need to do another shoot for Gucci Guilty soon…” as soon as I said the words, I trailed off.

Fuck. Gucci Guilty. With Chris. Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ .

My dad probably thought the distress on my face was from this conversation (to be fair, it was, but it was also about Gucci Guilty and Chris  _ and _ every other part of the shitstorm that was my life) so he spoke again, “You do not need to decide now, Simran. We can discuss it later.”

“I—I know,” I nodded, doing my best to stop thinking about everything. “The girls though, they've already said  _ yes _ ?”

“Yes,” my father said immediately, the beginnings of a smile on his face. “They're… Excited. I miss them and I'm glad to say I think they miss me.”

“Oh,” I breathed out. “I. I, uh. I have filming in New York soon but. Maybe for a bit. We can stay together like a family again.”

“Like a family again,” my father echoed with a small smile. “I’d like that.”

“But I still. I need some time. To think it all over,” I said, running a hand over my face.

My dad sent me a look that could've been deemed close enough to pity. “Right. Of course.”

I started to walk off again but then, paused, squaring my shoulders and turning back around. “Even if I say no… Archie and Maya… They're still leaving?”

He sighed heavily, eyeing me. “Yes, I think… I think they've wanted this for a while. I know you tried to make it home for them here but it's just not what they want.”

“Oh.” I nodded, feeling my stomach twist into a knot.

“Thank you, Simran. For everything. I know you provided them with what I couldn't.”

“ _ Wouldn't _ .” I corrected him, my gaze hardening as I looked my father over. He sent me a defeated look without a response and I knew it was the end of this conversation. “Anyway. I have to go. I'll try to let you know my decision as soon as I make it.”

I ended up back at Lombardo’s Italian Cuisine with Char in tow. We gave no warning to Marc but really, did we ever? He still managed to set a booth aside for us to talk at.

There were plenty of other employees to take care of customers but Marc still made sure that everyone was having an enjoyable time and no one needed refills before he tried to listen to my babbling. This I was used to, Marc’s love for the restaurant was one that I had to work around. And even as he motioned for me to speak, he was wiping down tables next to us.

“How many times do you think he's done that? Just fuckin’ whispered a declaration of love for me while I'm fucking snoozin’? I’m just knocked out and the bastard thought it was cool to just say it in my ear when he thinks I can't hear him?”

“ _ I _ think it's sweet,” Marc interjected, appearing suddenly from another booth and began pouring me a glass of soda.

“ _ I  _ think it's desperate,” Char interjected.

“ _ I  _ didn't ask,” I grumbled, taking a sip of the soda and wincing at Marc. “Fucking God, is this Pepsi? I hate you for using  _ Pepsi _ products.”

“One, they're cheaper and two, you did fuckin’ ask,” he sighed, wiping his hands on his apron before sliding into the booth across from me and next to Char.

“Simran,” Char started, looking alarmingly similar to a parent about to give their child a lecture. And God knew, I’d already done that with my mother this morning. I began to protest but Char cut me off with a hand up, effectively silencing me. “I was nice last night…”

I snorted. “You said ‘I fucking told you so’ to literally everything I said.”

“Because I did fucking tell you so,” Char replied. “And I'm telling you right now. You need to own up to your shit. You have feelings for Chris. And apparently he loves you. So what are you gonna do about it? Because you came crying to me last night and that's all fine and dandy, but now it's the morning and nothing’s changed. You need to realize what you want to do, get out there and fucking make it happen! Stop being confused and overthinking it when there's basically  _ nothing _ to over think. He loves you, you like him, you were already  _ practically _ dating, you were  _ literally _ living together with your pseudo children slash siblings, Archie and Maya. When are you planning on getting your head out of your ass and owning up to it?”

“Jesus, you went off!” Marc raised his hand for a high five without looking away from me and Char gave him one immediately. “Anyway, Charlotte’s right. As always.”

“Alright, that's a nice speech and all, but are we forgetting about a tiny detail here?  _ Minka _ ?”

“If I ever hear that name again, I'm gonna tear my fuckin’ hair out,” Char groaned into her drink.

“And to think, I loved that name so much I was gonna name my kid that,” Marc snickered. I threw a nearby salt packet at him, which he caught easily. He tossed it up in the air as he asked, “You didn't see them actually fuck, did you?”

I paused for a moment and he rolled his eyes, still tossing the packet up and catching it. He clarified, “You know, like dick in vag action. Or I guess, ass too. Apparently ya never know with Chris. Well, I guess,  _ you _ would know. But whatever, semantics.”

“Just shut up,” I said, rubbing my temples and squeezing my eyes shut. Finally, I begrudgingly said, “Well, no but it was pretty fucking heated.”

“Okay, and you said Chris told you nothing happened,” Char threw her hands up in exasperation.

“Correction, he told me she stopped them. Which already sounds sketchy, if you ask me,” I slurped on my drink and ignored the glares directed towards me. “Why would  _ she _ stop  _ him _ ?”

“What? Have you ever actually  _ met _ Minka? You don't know how she is. Maybe she wanted some other guy and realized it was wrong to use Chris. Maybe he moaned your name. Maybe she saw you staring at them from the elevator and recognized you. There are a number of reasons she couldn't stopped.”

I ignored Char’s reasoning. It was all valid assumptions but frankly, when was I ever one to care about logic or reasoning or anything that didn’t involve ignoring the actual problem? “Okay, whatever, I'm still stuck on the fact that it took me this long to notice.”

Char shook her head. “You ignore shit until it's hanging right above your head.”

“And then you act surprised when it all comes crashing down,” Marc added.

“Okay, what is this? Make Simran Feel Like  _ More _ Garbage Day?”

“No, but you ignored us  _ and _ Scott whenever we told you that Chris liked you, so that's on you.”

I swirled the straw around in my drink, intently watching the ice cubes move. “Where is Scott, anyway?”

“With his brother, you know, the guy who's heart you broke?” Marc said easily, sipping my Pepsi.

“Wow thank you, Marc, for that unbiased opinion.”

He stared at me for a moment, dropping the packet of salt and then sighing deeply. “I feel like we're in high school. You two need others to play messenger and admit your feelings to. But when it comes to each other, you guys act like a bunch of dongs.”

“I still hate that word,” I growled. “And I had no real idea he liked me, okay? He wasn't open about how he felt, so how was I to know?”

“You're fucking blind, we've been over this,” Char sighed.

Marc rolled his eyes. "You know, it wasn't just him who wasn't upfront about his feelings. You both danced around each other so much it was like we were at fucking prom."

“I didn't dance at prom."

"That's because you're a fucking killjoy,” Char said dryly.

Marc set his palms on the table, leaning towards me. “I feel like a lot of this stuff is just you over thinking and building it up. Have you ever thought that maybe none of these ‘problems’ are really problems? Maybe you're just using these as excuses to not be happy.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked over Marc’s shoulder, to the entrance of the restaurant in hopes of distracting myself. "I don't care. I'm going to blame Chris until I get tired."

"You never get tired of blaming others," he scoffed.

My eyebrows raised to my hairline as I whipped my eyes back to his serious face. I couldn't believe he just said that to me. He was usually the good cop in these situations. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Sim, you're great. You're intelligent as fuck and so caring, not to mention you’re a hilarious drunk. And you’re an amazing friend. But look, the only problem is that you don’t think you  _ deserve _ to be happy when you clearly do."

I glowered at him. “What does that have to do with me blaming people?”

“You can't exactly blame yourself for nothing thinking you deserve good shit in life. So it's easier to blame Chris.”

I didn't need all this at once, it felt like everyone was attacking me for not realizing sooner. So, I changed the subject.

“My mother thinks I need to be smart, safe and settled.”

“Oh my god,” Char rolled her eyes. “So that means you can't be happy? You can't be content? And when have you ever actually listened to your mother?”

“Well, I don't know… I'm just... I just found this all out last night, shouldn't I have a little more time?”

“You've wasted a lot of time, Sim. You and Chris have wasted so much fucking time running around in circles rather than being together.”

Being together. What exactly did that constitute? Did being together mean we would still act like we were normally? Or was it dates and gifts and trying to impress each other constantly?  _ Or _ was it the whole suburbs, picket fence, kids thing? Was I even ready for that?

“I have to go,” I whispered, biting my lip hard and staring at the wood of the table. “I think I need to be alone. Just for a little bit.”

Marc and Char looked at each other and then back at me.

“I can catch a cab home. It's your car,” Char shrugged easily.

I hesitated, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You need some time to hash this out. Be alone with your thoughts.”

And that's how I ended up alone at a goddamn Starbucks, having a staring contest with my phone. The very same stupid fucking Starbucks that I first met Chris at. The fucking worst place that ever existed and yet it felt like I was drawn to it.

I ordered a chai tea and stared at my phone bitterly.

My mother wanted me to be smart, safe and settled. But why  _ not _ happy? Why  _ not _ content? Could I somehow be all of those things at once? Was there a decision out there that would make me feel like I had my life together like that?

I don’t know how long I sat there for but I was finally taken out of my thoughts when I got a text alert from Archie. I sighed, steeling myself to see whatever unsolicited advice her fourteen year old ass was going to try to give me. But when I opened the message, I just groaned out loud.

It was a selfie (I could hear her voice in my head telling me that it wasn’t a selfie if more than one person was in it) of her and Maya in my dad’s hotel room. She said:  **_Tell Chris we miss him! We promise we’ll have one last movie hangout before we go. This time we can watch Cinderella or Aladdin?_ ** And then there were like, a thousand heart emojis because Archie never failed to send a text without showing some sort of fucking weird ass emotion.

This stupid goddamn text was the final fucking straw. I didn't know why but I seriously felt like crying in this stupid corner of a fucking Starbucks like some fucking loser. Maybe I wanted to cry because this all felt like it went to hell so quick. And it did, it was so fucking quick. It was like a fucking trainwreck that was my pathetic life.

My sisters were ready to leave, they  _ wanted _ to leave and yet I was stuck here, acting like I didn’t know what I needed to do. Who was I kidding? Why was I lying to myself, and everyone around me? I knew exactly what I needed to do. And I needed tell my dad first, after that I could think of talking to Chris about our bullshit.

So, after taking a few steadying breaths and sips of chai tea, I waited for him to pick up. When he did answer, it was in a rushed and panicked voice. “Simran, I was just about to call you! Pick up the girls from my hotel and come to the hospital right now. It's— it's your mother.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's no Chris in this chapter but... He'll be in the next one. *finger guns* I love comments and kudos.


	30. Chapter Thirty

The first time I saw Chris Evans, it was at a local Starbucks.

The very same Starbucks my life fell apart in. Of course. Wasn't it fucking fitting?

I don’t know how to say this easily, so I’ll just say it. After all, how do you say “My mom died that day” eloquently? I picked up the girls after the rushed phone call with my dad and we were on our way to the hospital when my dad called for the second time and I just knew. I knew he was calling because she was gone.

It'd been two weeks since that day and I was still in shock. My mother had just given me advice for probably the first time in my life and then she was just gone. In an instant, in a blink of a fucking eye.

I’d felt a whole myriad of emotions, of course. Pain, like a whole fucking lotta pain. Crippling sadness like no fucking other. I didn't leave my father’s hotel room for four days straight. My dad had dealt with his grief for one day and then he got on with preparing for everything that happened when someone died. The girls were my wake up call, I knew they needed me to be strong in that moment. After that, I stepped up and helped my dad with everything I possibly could as I ignored Chris and all the problems.

He knew about my mom, I think he'd heard it from Marc. He sent me flowers as his condolences. But I still never took the time to speak to him in these past two weeks. What could I say? “Hey, thanks for the flowers, my mom’s dead but you’re probably off fucking Minka”? And when would I have the time to say any of it anyway? I’d been reasonably busy with my family, trying to make arrangements for the cremation.

But here came the dilemma. I needed the last of my clothes out of Chris’ house. Sure, I could’ve had someone else go do it like I’d asked for the past two weeks. That's how I got the entirety of Archie and Maya’s belongings out of his house and the majority of mine. Except for the few drawers and closet’s worth of clothes left.

And yeah, maybe I didn’t even _need_ those clothes. I know I could’ve just bought new clothes instead of going back there. But, for some horrible reason, I felt like I needed to go back there. I convinced myself it was to get the remainder of my stuff, yes, but honestly, who was I fooling? Certainly not any of my friends and, quite obviously, I wasn’t even fooling my fucking self.

So, I texted Scott, asking him if he knew when Chris wouldn’t be home to reassure myself. I wasn’t going to see him on purpose. And, you know, maybe if I did see Chris… It would be good for him. I knew that these past two weeks had been horrible for him as well, not knowing what was going on or why every few days Char, Marc or Scott would come in to take stuff from the girls’ room and mine.

He needed closure.

Was that the right word? Closure? He needed something, I knew that much. I wasn't stupid, I knew running away wasn't the adult thing to do but frankly, my mother just died and I had my shit to deal with. So whatever he got, be it closure or not, that's all he was getting.

I showed up at the house midday, a text from Scott telling me he probably wasn't home because he had errands to run. Obviously, that ended up being complete bullshit.

Chris showed up about twenty minutes into my packing, making me jump up about five fucking feet in the air when he walked into the bedroom.

“You're here,” he whispered, like it was a dream come fucking true.

I stared at him for a moment, taking in his ragged appearance. He was in wrinkled clothes, looked a little thin and pale. He looked like he hadn’t properly groomed his beard in weeks and while he had cut his hair shorter, to a more youthful look, the lines on his face showed that he was anything but.

I was so shocked by him that I couldn't stop myself from saying, “You look like shit.”

“I've been goin’ for that rugged look, I guess.” Chris’ lips twitched up into a sardonic smile and I saw the sadness in his eyes. He looked like he'd been crying recently. Very, _very_ recently. Fuck.

“Oh.” was all I could manage to say.

Gulping, I turned back to the dresser to resume my folding. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him anymore. He saw the bags, he saw me packing. He knew what I was doing, what I was planning, so why was he here in this room?

“Simran, Jesus fucking Christ.” He groaned, grabbing the already packed duffle bag off the floor and placing it on the bed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I shot him an incredulous look over my shoulder. “What the fuck do you think?”

“Stop packing,” he ordered me, pulling my hand away from the suitcase.

I snatched my hand away from him. “Can you just stop? Can I pack in fucking peace? I haven't been in this house for two weeks.”

“Because you're avoiding me.”

“A very astute observation, Christopher, I wonder why that is.”

“Can we just fucking talk? Please?”

“I’m packing, so.”

“Then, _I’ll_ talk while _you're_ … folding and such.”

I grunted in acknowledgment, knowing there was no other answer that would work for him.

Then it was silent for a few minutes.  A very tense silence where I felt like the air was suffocating me.

He took a shaky breath finally and said, “How long are we gonna fucking do this, Sim? How much longer are you gonna stand there pretending this is okay?”

I slammed down the t-shirt I was holding angrily onto the dresser as I went on the defense. “Does it fucking look like I think this is okay?”

“No, but you're not doing anything to fix it,” Chris spat out bitterly. He snatched the t-shirt as he harshly opened a drawer, threw it back in and then slammed it shut. I glared indignantly but did nothing to take it back out.

“What the fuck am I supposed to fix, Christopher?” My hands clenched into fists as I thought of what to say. “My goddamn mom is dead.”

He winced, turning away from me before amping it back up. “Sim, I’m not saying you haven't been through hell and back but there's no reason for you to just fucking leave! You could stay and we could work something out together.”

“ _Work something out together_?” I repeated the words with a fake sugary sweet tone. “We can't work out shit, it's all gone to fucking hell.”

“You’re fucking here, aren't you?” He flailed his arms up in exasperation. “Doesn't that say something? _Anything_?”

“I'm here to pick up the rest of my stuff, not to see you.”

“Fucking bullshit,” he hissed, taking out an already folded pair of jeans and tossing them back out on the bed. “You could've had _anyone_ else pick it up! Anyone. You came here yourself.”

“It's my shit, I’m here to pick it up and I don't give a fuck if you're here or not!” I yelled, pointedly placing the jeans back into my suitcase.

“Oh, _please_. You came because you knew I’d be here.”

“Stop fucking fooling yourself,” I scoffed. “Scott _told_ me you'd be out, you fucking jackass.”

“Oh, my bad!” He said sarcastically. “Of course you'd totally take Scott’s word for it, like he hasn't tried to get us together from the beginning.”

“Um.” I paused my folding. Damn it, he was fucking right. I did kind of want to see him one last time. You know, because apparently I was a fucking masochist.

“What'd you expect, not to see me in my own fucking house?” Chris knew he had me there, he knew he was right. He flashed a smug grin and I saw red.

“I don't know what to expect when I’m seeing you, Christopher,” I said. “For example, sometimes when I see you, you're groping some other girl.”

He gaped at me, looking like an open mouthed fucking fish out of water. “Oh, come on, Sim, I told you! Nothing happened with her!”

“Don't act like you’re one to tell the truth here,” I snarled. “When you're the one always keeping me in the fucking dark.”

“Sweetheart, please—” he started.

“Don't fucking interrupt me and don't fucking call me sweetheart,” I said. He looked taken aback but nodded. “Sit on the fucking bed and listen to me.”

“Um, okay,” he obliged, sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning forward.

"Honestly Chris, what the fuck?” I started pacing, pressing the heels of my hands onto my eyes. “Why the fuck do we never talk about things?! We both talk so fucking much. I just say whatever comes to mind and you always talk. Always! You never shut up! And I... I ramble all the damn time. See, I'm doing it! I'm rambling right now!"  
  
"What's your point?” he sighed, putting his head in his hands.

I groaned in annoyance. "How come we never talk about actual things that matter? Why don't we ever talk about the time you kissed me outside my hotel room door or when you fucked Minka or lied about fucking her or whatever it is! Or how you told me you loved me like an idiot?!"  
  
"Well, fuck, Sim! I don't know!” Chris looked at me with exasperation. “I'm guessing we’re supposed to be talking about that right now!" 

“Oh, just… fuck off! You asshole!” I said, on the verge of tears. “I can't believe you! You're such a dick!”

Chris ran a hand over his face as he stared at me, his eyes softening the longer he looked at me. “I’ve loved you for so long, you know. It’s like when I saw you, something just clicked.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes in hopes of making sure the tears didn’t fall. “Please, just stop. Stop fucking feeding me and yourself this bullshit."

Chris ignored my harsh words, standing up and coming closer to me. “I think— I think I’ve really been in love with you since you first sent me a dog picture. You know, that day I had to film the helicopter scene and pulled my forearm?”

He looked at me, waiting for confirmation, so I nodded silently. He took my hand in his as he explained, “I was feeling like garbage because we kept reshooting it and I told you to never be in an action flick because it’ll kick your ass to hell and back. And you told me that you’d never get to be in a Marvel movie because you weren’t a white man.”

My voice trembled. “Well, it's true.”

We both huffed out a small laugh, sharing that small nostalgic moment before he spoke again. "And you just knew I was having a bad day, I think… You just knew. So you sent me a picture of this Australian shepherd puppy running through some flowers—“

I started to protest, knowing where this whole spiel was headed. “Chris—“

"I cried. I literally sat in my trailer and cried.” He spoke in a soft voice, not letting me interrupt. “It was so unexpected. It’s not like it was the sweetest thing ever. It’s not like a past girlfriend hadn’t done something similar. Hell, they’d probably done a lot more thoughtful things. But… I just thought... I just thought that you were the cutest fucking thing.”

“Okay—“

He caressed the back of my hand with his thumb tenderly, whispering now, "I couldn’t stop thinking of you constantly even before that happened. Right when I’d wake up, I’d think ‘Hey, I wonder what Simran is doing today.’ and when I went to bed, I’d say, ‘I hope she got to bed at a good time and has some sweet dreams. She deserves them.’”

I tried to stop him from saying these things, from making me hurt even more. “I don't—“

“And you deserve so much more than sweet dreams, Sim. So much more, you never think so but you do. You’re so fucking amazing and strong and kind and bright,” he murmured, leaning in closer to me.

“You don’t see the problem here, Chris!” I exploded, pulling away quickly and throwing my arms up in exasperation. “There’s a big fucking problem here that you don’t fucking pay attention to!”

He looked both frazzled at my sudden movements and unconvinced at my words as we stood staring at each other.

“Explain it to me, then,” he said with a condescending tone, but I could hear the hint of desperation in his voice.

“It’s like this.” I resumed my folding, turning away from him and clearing my throat to make sure my voice didn’t crack. “You see me, you think I’m some sweet girl, we talk, we laugh, we have fun, we fuck. That’s all fine. Then comes in the problem: you romanticize it all, you think you love me, you think I’m the fucking sun, and then you tell me that.”

"You _are_ like the fucking sun!”

“Let me fucking finish!” I replied, my voice shrill. “The key word here is that you romanticized it. Sure, I had a little, tiny crush on you, but that was fucking it, okay? It was nothing but a small crush. It was funny and childish but I got the fuck over it.”

“That’s not all, that is not all that this is. Do not. Do fucking not boil it down to something insignificant.”

“But isn’t that the fucking truth? When it boils down to it, we fucked and you thought I was some iconic dream girl and you could take me home.”

Chris snorted. “I felt this way before we had sex.”

“It was just you building it up!” I said, shaking my head. “You always do this. You make everything bigger than it is, better than it is. The minute you think something’s there, you act like it’s some magical thing that’s going to make everything in your life perfect. I’m fucking 24, I’m nothing like any of the girls you’ve dated, I’m a mess and I have no real direction right now. How could you possibly think we would work?”

“I’ve said this countless times, you’d be surprised by the girls I’ve actually fallen in love with.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. Everyone knows that’s bullshit. You’ve dated the same brunette with a decent sized ass like forty times.”

“Dating is different from being in love, Sim. And I’m in love with you.”

“Can we not throw that word around anymore?” I cringed, hoping it wouldn’t be said in the conversation again.

“What? _Love_?” Chris asked incredulously. “That’s what this whole conversation is about though. Isn't that the fucking truth?”

It was my turn to sound unconvinced. “How?”

“It's like this.” Chris said, mimicking me. “I’m in love with you and you’re running away.”

“You're not in love with me.” I looked at him gravely.

“Simran, I…” He sighed, running a hand over his face and shaking his head. “I know what we had wasn’t as important to you as it was to me but that was okay. I was fine with it. It was enough.”

“Until it wasn't okay. Until you weren't fine with it. Until it wasn't enough.” I corrected him swiftly.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, until it wasn't.”

“I don't know what you want me to say. There is no possible way for us to be together, Chris. Just please, understand that,” I whispered, biting my lip and turning back to the last of my clothes.

There was a pause and then, his voice was hoarse as he asked, “Did you even consider… Did you ever even think we could possibly be together?”

My heart clenched and I knew what he wanted me to say. He wanted me to tell him the truth, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Not when he deserved someone who was good for him. Not when I was going to leave him anyway. Maybe it was better for him to hate me.

“No. It never crossed my mind.” I lied, my throat feeling dry as I went on, “It was just some fun, Chris. I always said you had a way of romanticizing things.”

“I see,” his voice was hollow and he sniffled, so I knew he was about to cry. Fuck, I made him cry. Again. I was such a bitch.

I tried to lighten the blow, offering soft words that I didn’t really know if I believed or not. “See, you’ve just gotten used to me. I’m familiar. You don’t really feel this way about me. You’ll find someone who—"

“Don’t,” his voice wavered, dropping off at the end. “Don’t tell me how I feel.” He spoke again, clearing his throat, “Are you going to come back?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, steadying my voice, “I don’t… Don’t make me answer that right now, Chris. I don’t know."

He sniffled, “Look at me.”

I stiffened, trying to keep my own tears at bay. I could hear him moving closer, his boots slowly hitting the floor with every step. His voice was only a foot away from me when he spoke again, “Tell me to my face that you don't feel anything, look me in the eye and say me you don't love me like I love you. I’ll leave you alone. For good. Whatever you want, I’ll stay away forever.”

I didn’t want anything close to that but I knew it would be for the best. Chris could find someone his own age who could give him kids and marriage and time and effort. Not someone who was so stupid and naive and young, who didn’t know if she wanted that whole white picket fence thing he did and was still invested in her own future and career.

After a few subtle, deep breaths to try to brace myself, I turned around and crossed my arms over my chest. “I'm trying to make this easier for you.”

"You wanna make it easy for me? Then say I never mattered. Tell me it was all a fucking waste and that you never loved me." He looked unhinged, eyes ablaze and that stupid vein on his forehead was popping out.

"I don't," I finally replied without the conviction I needed. And I called myself an actress?  
  
He laughed, hollow and weak, like he was exhausted. He looked as though he was ready to sleep for a thousand years and he probably felt that way too. "That was pathetic."  
  
I bit my lip, trying to ground myself and remember where I was. Closing my eyes, I repeated, "I don't love you, Chris."  
  
"Do you even hear yourself?" His voice cracked and my heart felt crushed. "You can't even look at me. You're a coward and you're hiding behind some half-assed lies. I know you love me, Simran."  
  
"Oh? Then what took you so long to let _me_ know?" I asked, bitterness lacing every word as I turned back around to my suitcase.  
  
He huffed, and I just knew without looking that his hands were on his hips. "I wanted you to realize on your own, so that it was genuine and real! I didn't want to force feelings onto you."  
  
"You don't think you're doing that right now?!" I asked sarcastically as I threw the last sundress into my bag.

"I feel like I'm about to explode, I've been keeping this in for so fucking long-"  
  
"Stop, you don't mean that." I pressed my palms down on the top of my clothes, pushing everything down as I avoided looking at him.

"But I do! I do mean it and you can't tell me I don't," Chris grabbed my arm, turning me towards him. “Simran, this isn’t bullshit. I’m serious.”  
  
“I… Don’t have time for this,” I managed to get out, moving away from him. He looked hurt and confused, like a wounded animal. 

“What?”

“I can’t— I’m not—“ I bit my lip, shaking my head furiously. “I’m sorry.”

“You were the one who wanted to talk about this!” his brows furrowed in frustration.

"I'm leaving. I'm leaving, no matter what." I said weakly. 

His face fell even worse than it had when he first walked into the room.

“Okay,” he nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “Okay. At least let me help you take your bags down to the car.”

I pulled my duffle bag over my shoulder as Chris carried the suitcase down the stairs behind me. Once outside, I silently unlocked my car and popped the trunk for him to put the bags away. He stopped me from leaving right then as he held my car door. It reminded me of that time outside of Starbucks when he'd also begged me to stay. Unfortunately, this time I wouldn't. I opened my mouth to say as much but he just shook his head.

“Can I please just have one last kiss?” Chris asked in a low, pleading voice as he leaned in closer to me. “I sound pathetic, I know. But can I please?”

My heart shattered at that exact moment. I blinked away tears, nodding as I leaned in as well. He pulled me close, his hands gripping my waist as if he thought I’d vanish in a second. And maybe he wasn't wrong for thinking that.

My eyes closed on their own accord, letting the tears free as our lips finally pressed together. His warm lips melding firmly against my own. It was soft and wet, I could even feel his tears on my cheek and I couldn't tell them apart from my own. I felt safe there, with him. Like nothing could go wrong. But I knew the minute we stopped, everything would come crashing down on us. I knew that even though this kiss was soft and warm and tender, making me feel like I had sunshine inside me, it was nothing in the end. It was just a kiss filled with empty promises neither of us could really keep. 

The worst thing was... It felt like a true last kiss and that's probably why it hurt so fucking much.

When we finally broke away, our breath still mingling and lips brushing against each other, he whispered softly, “You're it for me, you gotta know that.”

I did know. I wish I knew _why_ , but I didn’t. I also knew that I was making a huge mistake. I knew telling Chris that everything he felt was bullshit was not the way to go. I knew I would never stop thinking of the way Chris would hold my hand and hug me and kiss my lips so sweetly, I knew it was forever ingrained in my mind. There was never going to be someone who made me smile as wide or laugh as hard as he did. I knew he was it for me, just like he said I was it for him.

I knew that years from now when I was alone and drowning in my sorrows, thinking of past regrets, this would be the biggest fucking one. I knew I’d think of him every fucking day, hoping he was okay, wondering if he even managed to think of me every once in awhile. Wondering if he missed me, even if I had no right to think that. It wasn’t going to be okay. What I was going to do wasn’t right but it was going to happen, regardless.

It didn’t make sense to burden Chris with my issues when I had to work through them myself. Besides, I was too far off from what he actually needed. I couldn’t give him that whole “house in the suburbs, kids playing in the backyard, Boston life” dream he’d been hoping for. I had my own shit to figure out. He didn’t need to be here, waiting around for me to be ready when I didn’t even know if I ever would be.

Those were the justifications I made to myself to do what I was about to do.

“You’re not it for me, Chris,” I swallowed, reminding myself that this was how it needed to be. Backing out from his arms, I said, “I’m sorry, but that’s it. You’re not it for me and you should know that.”

He looked absolutely heartbroken, like I’d ripped his heart out from his chest and stomped on it and I felt like I fucking did in a metaphorical sense. His shoulders sagged, his eyes welled up with tears, and he looked completely defeated.

So, it looked like this was the end. I think he finally knew it was the end as well. He said nothing as I got into the driver's seat and started the engine. He barely stepped back as I reversed the car out of the driveway. He looked lifeless and dead in the rear view mirror, like I was leaving behind a body and not the man I loved.

And _that_ was the last time I saw Chris Evans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who ever read this, whether you stopped after chapter one or have been patiently waiting for the final chapter! I had been hoping to post this nearly a month ago on August 15th, because that was my birthday. But then life happened, so. Sorry guys, I truly hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> The End...
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> ... Just kidding. 
> 
> Anyway, TMH's sequel is already getting written and I'll start posting in late September! 
> 
> P.S. Help me think of a title for it in the comments, guys. :)


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